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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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http://www.archive.org/details/analysisofprinciOOportrich 


ANALYSIS 


OF  THE  PRINCIPLES  OP 


RHETORICAL.  DELIVERY 


AS  APPLIED  IN 


READING  AND  SPEAKING. 


BY  EBENEZER  PORTER,  D.  D. 

President  of  the  Theological  Seminary,  Andover. 


andover: 

PUBLISHED  BY  MARK  NEWMAN. 
Flagg  &  Gould.. ..printers. 

1828. 


to  wit: 

District  ClerVs  Office. 
Be  it  remembered,  that  on  the  fifteenth  day  of  March,  A.  D.  1827,  in  the  fifty 
first  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  United  States  of  America,  Mark  Newman  of 
the  said  district,  has  deposited  in  this  office  the  title  of  a  book,  the  right  whereof 
he  claims  as  proprietor,  in  the  words  following,  to  wit ; — "  Analysis  of  the  princi- 
ples of  Rhetorical  Delivery,  as  applied  in  Reading  and  Speaking.  By  Ebenezer  Por- 
ter, D.  D.  Bartlet  Professor  of  Sacred  Rhetoric  in  the  Theological  »2minary,  Ando- 
ver."  In  conformity  to  the  Act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  entitled,  "  An 
Act  for  the  encouragement  of  Learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts  and 
books,  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein  men- 
tioned :"  and  also  to  an  Act  entitled,  "  An  Act  supplementary  to  an  Act,  entitled, 
An  Act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  maps,  charts 
and  books,  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies  during  the  times  therein 
mentioned;  and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  the  arts  of  designing,  engraving 
and  etching  historical  and  other  prints." 

lomw.DAvialJ'saa',^"" 


>v^^/ 


PREFACE 


TO  SECOND  EDITION. 


The  author  of  this  work  considered  it  as  an  experiment 
on  public  opinion,  respecting  a  department  of  instruction, 
in  which  diversities  of  taste  have  had  more  scope  for  exercise, 
than  in  almost  any  other.  His  best  hopes  therefore  have 
been  far  exceeded  by  the  speedy  demand  for  a  second  edi- 
tion, and  by  other  unequivocal  marks  of  favor  with  which 
the  publication  has  been  generally  received.  A  few  unim- 
portant changes  have  been  made  in  this  edition,  from  the 
friendly  suggestions  of  those  who  had  read  the  former.  In 
general,  it  is  reprinted,  page  for  page,  with  only  the  correc- 
tion of  typographical,  and  other  small  errors,  which  were 
occasioned  by  haste  or  mistake.  The  peculiar  character  of 
the  book  is  such,  that,  to  break  up  its  identity,  as  to  order 
of  references,  would  render  it  impossible  for  both  editions 
to  be  advantageously  used,  by  the  same  class.  Should 
another  edition  be  called  for,  it  may  perhaps  be  best  to  fore- 
go this  advantage,  if  any  substantial  improvements  in  the 
work  should  render  it  necessary. 

The  author  will  only  add  that,  should  his  health  and  en- 
gagements permit,  in  compliance  with  various  solicitations 
he  has  received,  it  is  his  intention  to  prepare  a  smaller 
work,  on  the  same  general  principles,  for  the  use  of  acad- 
emies and  the  higher  schools. 

Theological  Seminary, 
Andover,  Jan.  1828. 


PREFACE. 


Delivery  is  but  a  part  of  rhetoric  ;  and  rhetoric,  in  the 
common  acceptation  of  the  term,  is  but  a  part  of  the  business 
in  which  1  am  called  to  give  instruction.  The  great  pur- 
pose of  my  office  is,  to  teach  young  men,  who  are  prepar- 
ing for  the  sacred  ministry,  how  to  preach  the  gospel.  In 
pursuance  of  this  purpose,  it  became  my  duty  to  give  a 
course  of  lectures  on  eloquence  generally,  and  more  partic- 
ularly on  style  ;  and  another  course  on  preaching,  inclu- 
ding the  history  of  the  pulpit,  and  the  structure  and  chief 
characteristics  of  sermons,  and  the  personal  qualities  re- 
quisite in  the  Christian  preacher.  Besides  the  study  de- 
manded in  traversing  a  field  so  important,  and  so  unfre- 
quented, at  least  in  this  country  ;  the  necessity  of  combin- 
ing individual  with  classical  instruction  in  this  department, 
makes  its  labors  more  than  sufficient  to  engross  the  time 
of  one  man. 

In  these  circumstances,  it  may  seem  strange  that  I  should 
turn  aside  from  higher  duties,  to  publish  a  book,  more  adapt- 
ed to  the  earlier  stages  of  education  than  to  that  which  is 
directly  preparatory  to  the  ministry.  The  truth  is,  that  I 
have  been  gradually  and  almost  unavoidably  drawn  into 
this  measure. 

As  an  instructer  of  theological  students,  my  attention 
was,  many  years  ago,  called  to  some  prevalent  defects  in  de- 
livery. These  I  ascribed  chiefly  to  early  habits,  contracted 
in  the  schools ;  and  to  the  want  of  adequate  precepts  in 
books  on  reading  and  speaking.  The  worst  faults  in  elocu- 
tion, originate  in  want  of  feeling.  But  when  these  faults  be- 
come confirmed,  no  degree  of  feeling  will  fully  counteract 
their  influence,  without  the  aid  of  analysis,  and  patient  ef- 
fort to  understand  and  correct  them.  Still,  in  this  process 
of  correction,  there  is  danger  of  running  into  formality  of 
manner,  by  withdrawing  the  attention  from  that  in  which 
the  soul  of  eloquence  consists, — emotion.  For  the  purpose 
of  guarding  against  this  tendency,  and  at  the  same  time  of 
accomplishing  the  ends  at  which  Walker  aims,  in  his  Ele- 


PREFACE. 


ments  of  Elocution,  I  have  much  desired  to  see  a  manual 
for  students,  free  both  from  the  obscurity  and  the  extreme 
particularity  of  his  system. 

In  the  winter  of  1821,  during  a  necessary  absence  from 
the  Theological  Seminary,  on  account  of  health,  I  addres- 
sed to  the  students  a  number  of  letters  on  elocution.  The 
plan  of  these  letters*  required  them  to  embrace  all  the  sub- 
jects included  in  this  publication,  and  besides  these,  the  fol- 
lowing ; — the  importance  to  a  preacher  of  a  good  delivery  ; 
necessity  of  earnestness  in  his  manner  ;  causes  which  influ- 
ence his  intellectual  and  moral  habits  ;  the  influence  of  per- 
sonal piety  on  the  preacher's  eloquence  ;  circumstances  of 
the  age,  which  are  unfavourable,  and  those  which  are  favour- 
able to  the  cultivation  of  eloquence  ;  the  utility  of  prepara- 
tory exercises,  with  hints  of  advice  relative  to  these  ;  pre- 
servation of  lungs,  and  the  mistakes  that  are  often  fatal  to 
this  organ  in  public  speakers ;  pronunciation  as  restricted 
tfo  single  words;  and  management  of  voice  in  public  prayer. 

One  of  these  papers,  that  on  inflections,  was  since  com- 
mitted to  the  press  ;  and,  though  not  intended  to  be  puh- 
lished,  yet,  having  been  circulated  to  a  considerable  extent, 
some  respectable  individuals  requested  that  I  would  enlarge 
and  reprint  this  pamphlet ;  and  others,  that  I  would  pub- 
lish a  book,  for  the  use  of  Colleges,  and  of  students  gene- 
rally who  are  forming  their  habits  of  elocution.  In  this 
wish  the  Rhetorical  Society  in  the  Theological  Seminary 
united  ;  and  their  committee  addressed  letters  to  several  of 
the  Presidents  of  Colleges,  and  to  other  gentlemen,  to  as- 
certain whether  such  a  publication  was  deemed  necessary, 
by  those  who  are  most  interested  in  the  subject.  In  reply 
to  this  inquiry,  a  concurrent  opinion  was  expressed,  that  our 
Seminaries  of  learning  greatly  need  a  work  on  Elocution, 
different  in  many  respects  from  any  thing  hitherto  publish- 
ed ;  and  a  concurrent  wish  that  I  should  proceed  in  the 
preparation  of  such  a  work,  was  also  expressed,  though  with 
different  degrees  of  interest  by  different  gentlemen. 

I  have  been  the  more  ready  to  engage  in  this  undertaking, 
from  the  conviction  that,  whatever  aid  it  may  render  to  In- 
structers  of  our  Academical  Seminaries,  and  whatever  use- 

*  Some  of  thein  I  have  since  thrown  into  Lectures,  with  enlargement. 
1* 


PREFACE. 


All  influence  it  may  have  on  the  pupils  of  these  Seminaries, 
will  be  a  clear  gain  in  my  own  official  duties,  in  respect  to 
such  of  these  pupils  as  may  afterward  come  under  my  in- 
struction. The  fewer  bad  habits  are  carried  from  elemen- 
tary schools  to  the  college,  and  from  the  college  to  profes- 
sional studies,  the  easier,  at  each  stage,  becomes  the  pro- 
gress of  improvement.  And  the  more  deeply  the  spirit  of 
improvement  in  Elocution  takes  hold  of  young  men,  in  our 
literary  institutions,  the  greater  will  be  their  annual  contri- 
bution of  eloquent  men  for  the  pul[)it,  as  well  as  for  secular 
professions.  The  fifteen  years  in  which  I  have  been  con- 
nected with  a  Theological  Seminary,  which  receives  its 
members  from  all  the  Colleges,  have  enabled  me  to  observe, 
as  I  have  done  with  much  satisfaction,  a  gradual  and  grow- 
ing advance,  in  our  educated  young  men,  as  to  the  spirit  of 
delivery.  This  advance  has  been  especially  obvious  since 
several  of  these  Colleges  have  had  able  Professors  of  Rhet- 
oric and  Oratory,  a  department  of  instruction  in  which  it  is 
presumed  none  of  them  can  much  longer  remain  deficient, 
consistently  with   the  claims  of  public  opinion. 

Had  I  been  fully  aware  of  the  labor  it  would  require  to 
select  the  examples,  and  apply  the  notation,  in  the  first  part 
of  the  Exercises,  I  should  have  been  deterred  from  the  un- 
dertaking. With  much  pleasure  I  acknowledge  my  obli- 
gations to  Mr.  George  Howe  and  Mr.  Samuel  C.  Jackson, 
for  the  imf>ortant  assistance  they  have  rendered,  especially 
in  correcting  the  press,  and  selecting  pieces  for  the  second 
part  of  the  Exercises.  This  assistance  has  been  the  more 
necessary  on  account  of  my  infirm  health,  and  the  urgency 
of  ofl[icial  duties. 

I  only  add  two  remarks  here.  One  is,  that  I  consider 
this  little  book  as  an  experiment^  on  a  subject  environed 
with  difficulty,  both  from  the  inadequate  attention  it  has 
hitherto  received,  in  our  systems  of  education,  and  from  the 
prevalence  of  conflicting  tastes  respecting  it.  The  other  is, 
that,  having  transferred  all  pecuniary  concern  in  this  pub- 
lication to  the  Rhetorical  Society  abovementioned,  I  have 
no  personal  interest  in  its  success,  beyond  the  hope  that  it 
may,  in  some  degree,  promote  the  purposes  to  which  my 
life  is  devoted. 


DIRECTIONS  TO  TEACHERS. 


To  those  who  may  use  this  book,  I  have  thought  it  pro- 
per to  make  the  following  preparatory  suggestions. 

1.  In  a  large  number  of  those  who  are  to  be  taught 
reading  and  speaking,  the  first  difficulty  to  be  encountered 
arises  from  bad  habits  previously  contracted.  The  most 
ready  way  to  overcome  these,  is  to  go  directly  into  the  anal- 
ysis of  vocal  sounds,  as  they  occur  in  conversation.  But  to 
change  a  settled  habit,  even  in  trifles,  often  requires  perse- 
verance for  a  long  time  ;  of  course  it  is  not  the  work  of  a 
moment,  to  transform  a  heavy,  uniform  manner  of  delivery, 
into  one  that  is  easy,  discriminating,  and  forcible.  This  is  to 
be  accomplished,  not  by  a  few  irresolute,  partial  attempts ; 
but  by  a  steadiness  of  purpose  and  of  effort,  corresponding 
with  the  importance  of  the  end  to  be  achieved.  Nor  should 
it  seem  strange  if,  in  this  process  of  transformation,  the  sub- 
ject of  it  should  at  first  appear  somewhat  artifici  5]  :  n  -  c(in- 
strained  in  manner.  More  or  less  of  this  inconvenience  is 
unavoidable,  in  all  important  changes  of  habit.  The  young 
pupil  in  chirography  never  can  become  an  elegant  penman, 
till  his  bad  habit  of  holding  his  pen  is  broken  up  ;  though 
for  a  time  the  change  may  make  him  write  worse  than  be- 
fore. In  respect  to  Elocution,  as  well  as  every  other  art, 
the  case  may  be  in  some  measure  similar.  But  let  the  new 
manner  become  so  familiar,  as  to  have  in  its  favour  the  ad- 
vantages of  habit,  and  the  difficulty  ceases. 

2.  The  pupil  should  learn  the  distinction  of  inflections, 
by  reading  the  familiar  examples  under  one  rule,  occasion- 
ally turning  to  the  Exercises,  when  more  examples  are  ne- 


VIII  DIRECTIONS  TO  TEACHERS. 

cessary  ;  and  the  Teacher's  voice  should  set  him  right 
whenever  he  makes  a  mistake.  In  the  same  manner,  he 
should  go  through  all  the  rules  successively.  If  he  acquires 
the  habit  of  giving  too  great  or  too  little  extent  to  his  slides 
of  voice,  he  should  be  carefully  corrected,  according  to  the 
suggestions  given,  p.  43,  50,  51,  and  88. — After  getting  the 
command  of  the  voice,  the  great  point  to  be  steadily  kept 
in  view,  is  to  apply  the  principles  of  emphasis  and  inflection, 
just  as  nature  and  sentiment  demand.  In  respect  to  those 
principles  of  modulation,  in  which  the  power  of  delivery  so 
essentially  consists,  we  should  always  remember  too,  that, 
as  no  theory  of  the  passions  can  teach  a  man  to  be  pathetic, 
so  no  description  that  can  be  given  of  the  inflection,  em- 
phasis, and  tones,  which  accompany  emotion,  can  impart 
this  emotion,  or  be  a  substitute  for  it.  No  adequate  des- 
cription indeed  can  be  given  of  the  nameless  and  ever  vary- 
ing shades  of  expression,  which  real  pathos  gives  to  the 
voice.  Precepts  here  are  only  subsidiary  helps  to  genius 
and  sensibility. 

3.  Previous  attention  should  be  given  to  any  example 
or  exercise,  before  it  is  read  to  the  Teacher.  At  the  time 
of  reading,  the  student  should  generally  go  through,  with- 
out interruption  ;  and  then  the  Teacher  should  explain  any 
fault,  and  correct  it  by  the  example  of  his  own  voice,  re- 
quiring the  parts  to  be  repeated.  It  would  be  useful  often 
to  inquire  why  such  a  modification  of  voice  occurs,  in  such 
a  place,  and  how  a  change  of  structure  would  vary  the  in- 
flection, stress,  &c.  When  the  examples  are  short,  as  in 
all  the  former  part  of  the  work,  reference  may  easily  be 
made  to  any  sentence  ;  and  in  the  long  examples,  the  lines 
are  numbered,  on  the  left  hand  of  the  page,  to  facilitate  the 
reference,  after  a  passage  has  been  read. 

4.  When  any  portion  of  the   Exercises  is  committed  to 


DIRECTIONS  TO  TEACHERS.  IX 

memory  for  declamation,  it  should  be  perfectly  committed, 
before  it  is  spoken ;  as  any  labor  of  recollection  is  certainly 
fatal  to  freedom,  and  variety,  and  force  in  speaking.  In 
general,  it  were  well  that  the  same  piece  should  be  subse- 
quently once  or  more  repeated,  with  a  view  to  adopt  the 
suggestions  of  the  Instructer.  The  selected  pieces  are 
short,  because,  for  the  purpose  of  improvement  in  elocution, 
a  piece  of  four  or  five  minutes,  is  better  than  one  of  fifteen. 
And  more  advance  may  be  made,  in  managing  the  voice 
ahd  countenance,  by  speaking,  several  times,  a  short  speech, 
thouorh  an  old  one,  like  that  of  Brutus  on  the  death  of  Cae- 
sar,  (if  it  is  done  with  due  care  each  time  to  correct  what 
was  amiss,)  than  in  speaking  many  long  pieces,  however 
spirited  or  new,  which  are  but  half  committed,  and  in  the 
delivery  of  which  all  scope  of  feeling  and  adaptation  of  man- 
ner, are  frustrated  by  labor  of  memory.  The  attempt  to 
speak  with  this  indolent,  halting  preparation,  is  in  all  re- 
spects wor^e  than  nothing. 


KET  OF  INFIiCOTZON. 

-  denotes  monotone. 

^   rising  inflection. 

N  falling  inflection. 

w  circumflex. 


KEY  OF  MODUXiATXON. 

(')  high. 

{^)  high  and  loud. 

(o)  low. 

(oo)  low  and  loud. 

( ..  )  slow. 

( II  )  rhetorical  pause. 


6 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 

CHAP.  I.     Reading  :  its  connexion  with  speaking      ...  13 

Correct  reading 14 

Rhetorical  reading 15 

Difficulties  from  the  genius  of  written  language  lb. 

All  directions  subsidiary  to  expression  of  feeling  18 

CHAP.  II.  Articulation 20 

Sect.  1.    Importance  of  a  good  articulation      .     .     .     .     •  ib. 

Sect.  2.     Causes  of  defective  articulation 23 

Difficulty  of  many  consonant  sounds       ....  25 

Immediate  succession  of  similar  sounds  ....  27 

Influence  of  accent 28 

Tendency  to  slide  over  unaccented  vowels      .     .  29 

Cautions 30 

Impediments 32 

CHAP,  III.  Tones  and  Inflections 34 

Sect.  1.    Tones  considered  as  a  language  of  emotion     .     .  ib. 
Sect.  2.    Utility  of  systematic  attention  to  Tones  and  In- 
flections    35 

Sect.  3.    Description  of  Inflections 42 

Sect.  4.    Classification  of  Inflections 45 

Rule  I.     Influence  of  disjunctive  or  on  Inflection       ...  47 

Rule  II.  Of  the  Direct  Question  and  its  Answer  .     .     .     .  ib. 

Rule  III.  Of  Negation  opposed  to  Affirmation 49 

Rule  IV.  Of  the  Pause  of  Suspension 51 

Rule  V.  Of  the  influence  of  Tender  Emotion  on  the  voice  54 

Rule  VI.  Of  the  Penultimate  Pause    ........  55 

Rule  VII.  Of  the  Indirect  Question  and  its  Answer     ...  56 

Rule  VIII.  The  language  of  Authority  and  of  Surprise    .     .  57 

Rule  IX.  Emphatic  succession  of  particulars 60 

Rule  X.  Emphatic  Repetition 62 

Rule  XI.  Final  Pause 63 

Rule  XII.  The  Circumflex 65 

CHAP.  IV.    Accent 66 

CHAP.  V.    Emphasis 69 


XII  CONTENTS. 


Sect.  1.     Emphatic  Stress 71 

Absolute  Emphatic  Stress 76 

Antithetic  or  Relative  Emphatic  Stress       ...     78 

Sect.  2.     Emphatic  Inflection 80 

Emphatic  Clause 88 

Double  Ehaphasis 91 

CHAP.  VI.   Modulation 92 

Sect.  1.     Faults  of  Modulation ib. 

Monotony ib. 

Mechanical  Variety        93 

Sect.  2.     Remedies 95 

The  spirit  of  Emphasis  to  be  cultivated     .     .     .     ib. 
A  habit  of  discrimination  as  to  Tones  &  Inflection     99 

Sect.  3.     Pitch  of  voice 103 

Sect.  4.     Quantity 106 

Strength  of  voice  important  to  a  public  speaker     107 

Depends  on  good  organs  of  speech  .     .     .108 

—And  on  the  proper  exercise  of  these  organs  109 
Directions  for  preserving  and  strengthening  them  1 10 

Rate  of  utterance 1 12 

Sect.  5.     Rhetorical  Pause 114 

Sect.  6.     Compass  of  Voice 118 

Sect.  7.     Transition 120 

Sect.  8.     Expression 125 

Sect.  9.     Representation 128 

Sect.  10.  The  Reading  of  Poetry        133 

Remarks  on  the  reading  of  Psalms  and  Hymns  in 

the  pulpit 138 

CHAP.  VII.  Rhetorical  Action 144 

PART  I.    Principles  of  Rhetorical  Action 146 

Sect.  1.     Action  as  significant  from  nature ib. 

Expression  of  countenance ib. 

Attitude  and  mien 148 

Sect.  2.     Action  considered  as  significant  from  custom  .     .151 

VkKTW.  Faults  of  Rhetorical  Action 152 

Sources  of  these,  viz.  personal  defects,  diffidence, 

imitation ib. 

Mismanagement  of  the  eye  and  of  attitude     .     .155 


CONTENTS.  Xni 


Gesture  may  want  appropriateness  and  discri- 
mination          ...     158 

May  be  too  constant,  or  violent,  or  complex  or 
uniform 160 

Mechanical  variety 162 


EXERCISES. 

PARTI. 

Remarks  and  Directions 167 

EXERCISES  ON  ARTICULATION. 

Exercises  1,  2,  3 169 

EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION. 
Exercise  4.     Disjunctive  or 170 

5.     Direct  Question  &;c 171 

■  6,     Conjunctive  or j     .     .   174 

7.     Negation  opposed  to  affirmation ib. 

8.     Comparison  and  Contrast  176 

9.     Pause  of  Suspension .  180 

10.  Tender  Emotion  i87 

12.  Indirect  Question  &c 189 

— •^—   13>   Language  of  Authority,  Surprise,  &c.     .     .     .  193 

■  14.  Emphatic  Succession  &c 199 

15.  Emphatic  Repetition 203 

EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS. 
Exercise  19,  20,  21,22.     Absolute   and  Relative  stress,  and 

Emphatic  Inflection 205 

'"  23.  Difference  between  common  and  Intensive  In- 
flection   226 

EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION. 
Exercise  24.  Compass  of  voice 227 

25.  Transition 232 

The  power  of  Eloquence ib. 

Hohenlinden 234 

Hamlet's  Soliloquy 235 

Battle  of  Waterloo 236 

Negro's  Complaint 238 

1 


XIV  CONTENTS. 


Marco  Bozzaris 2^10 

Extract  from  Paradise  Lost 242 

Exercise  26.  Expression 243 

Judah's  Speech  to  Joseph ib. 

Joseph  disclosing^  himself 244 

Death  of  a  friend 246 

The  Sabbath ib. 

Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore 248 

Eve  lamenting  the  loss  of  Paradise     .     .     .  249 

Soliloquy  of  Hamlet's  Uncle 250 

•— — -  27.   Representation        251 

Examples  from  the  Bible ib. 

The  sieg-e  of  Calais 256 

Extract  from  a  sermon  of  R.  Robinson     .     .  258 

28.  Devotional  poetry 259 

Extracts  from  the  Psalms  and  Hymns  of  Watts  260 

Missionary  Hymn         266 

EXERCISES. 

PART  II- 

FAMILIAR  PIECES. 

Hamlet's  instruction  to  Players Shakspeare.  267 

The  dead  Mother        Jinon,  268 

The  Temptation 269 

Partiality  of  Authors Cecil.  270 

What  is  Time? Marsden.  271 

Ruth,  and  Noami        Cecil.  272 

Influence  of  Education,  Constitution,  &c.  on  Character.    Cecil,  ib. 

Death  of  Absalom 274 

Hamlet  and  Horatio        Shakspsare.  275 

An  idea  of  faith  impressed  on  a  Child Cecil.  278 

Conversation Cowper,  279 

Conversation Cowper.  ib. 

Lady  Percy  to  her  Husband Shakspeare.  281 

Exercise  of  the  Memory  in  learning  not  Sufficient     Campbell,  282 

Casablanca J^rs,  Hemans.  283 

Fitz  James  and  Roderick  Dhu W.Scott.'  284 

Address  to  the  Mununy 285 


CONTENTS.  XY 


Othello  and  fago .       Shakspeare,  287 

Macduff Ibid,  289 

William  Tell         •     .     • 290 

Nathan's  Parable •     .     .     .     .  295 

Harmony  amons^  brethren         PercivaL  ib. 

Barley's  Death Mackenzie,  297 

To-Morrow Cotton,  299 

SECULAR  ELOaUENCE. 

The  perfect  Orator Sheridan,  301 

Character  of  True  Eloquence        Webster,  302 

The  Pilgrims Everett,  ib. 

Tiie  Progress  of  Poesy Gray,  305 

Darkness         Byron,  306 

The  Slave  Trade Webster,  308 

Dream  of  Clarence Shakspeare,  3l0 

Moral  Sublimity jlmes,  312 

Character  of  Brutus 313 

Conclusion  of  Webster's  Plymouth  Discourse 315 

Address  to  the  Patriots  of  the  Revolution        .     .        Webster.  316 

Brutus'  Speech Shakspeare,  317 

Chatham's  Speech 3 18 

Specimen  of  the  Eloquence  of  James  Otis 320 

Pitt's  Reply  to  Walpole 322 

Speech  of  Mr.  Griffin  against  Cheetham 324 

Thunder  Storm          . 326 

Slavery Cowper,  327 

Irruption  of  Hyder  AH Burke,  328 

Apostrophe  to  Sleep  .....     ^     ..     .       Shakspeare,  330 

Vanity  of  Power  and  .Misery  of  Kings Ibid,  ib. 

Reproof  of  the  Irish  Bishops Grattan,  331 

Speech  on  the  Greek  Revolution Webster,  333 

Character  of  Hamilton Ames,  334 

State  of  the  French  Republic Grattan,  336 

Cicero  for  Cluentius 338 

Extract  from  Demosthenes 340 

Brougham's  Speech  on  the  Speeeh  of  the  Duke  of  York    .     .  342 

Dangers  which  beset  the  literature  of  the  age     .     .       Story,  344 

Tribute  to  Henry  Kirk  White Byron,  246 


XVI  CONTENTS. 


SACRED  ELOaUENCE. 

Defence  of  Pulpit  Eloquence Anon,  34- 

The  Blind  Preacher Wirt,  35o 

Joel  2:  I— 11        , .  352 

2  Samuel  1:  17^27        353 

Revelation Cowper,  354 

Daniel  9:  3—19 355 

Success  of  the  Gospel Wayland,  356 

Events  of  Providence  promotive  of  the  end  of  Missions      James.  358 

The  hatefulness  of  War Chalmers.  359 

The  Preservation  of  the  Church Mason,  36 1 

Obligations  to  the  Pilgrims Wlielpley,  363 

A  future  State Thomson,  364 

Present  facilities  for  Evangelizing  the  world  compared  with 

those  of  Primitive  times Beecher,  365 

Civilization  Merely  ineffectual  to  Convert  the  World    James.  367 

The  forebodings  of  heathen  approaching  death  •     .     .    Ibid,  369 

The  efficacy  of  the  Cross Ibid,  370 

The  Fall  of  Niagara Brainerd,  373 

Reform  in  Morals Beecher.  ib. 

Universal  spread  of  the  Bible Maxwell,  375 

Isaiah  13:  14:  1—23 378 

Eternity  of  God Greenwood.  383 

Epitaph  on  Mrs.  Mason     ....           ../....  385 

Skepticism Campbell,  ib. 

The  Atheist Foster,  387 

Duelling Beecher.  388 

Character  of  the  Puritans Edinb.  Rev,  390 

An  enlightened  Ministry Channing.  393 

Prayer Jerem.  Taylor.  394 

Gray's  Elegy 395 

Obligation  to  the  heathen Griffin,  397 

Infatuation  of  men  with  regard  to  things  of  time.        Kirwan,  399 

Death  of  Hamilton Kolt,  401 

The  Crucifixion Bossuet,  402 


TJNIVE 


CHAPTER  I. 


READING.    ITS  CONNEXION  WITH  SPEAKING. 


Uelivery,  in  the  most  general  sense,  is  the  commu- 
nication of  our  thoughts  to  others,  by  oral  language.  The 
importance  of  this,  in  professions  where  it  is  the  chief  in- 
strument by  which  one  mind  acts  on  others,  is  so  obvious 
as  to  have  given  currency  to  the  maxim,  that  an  indiffer- 
ent composition  well  delivered,  is  better  received  in  any 
popular  assembly,  than  a  superior  one,  delivered  badly. 
In  no  point  is  public  sentiment  more  united  than  in  this, 
that  the  usefulness  of  one  whose  main  business  is  public 
speaking,  depends  greatly  on  an  impressive  elocution. 
This  taste  is  not  peculiar  to  the  learned  or  the  ignorant; 
it  is  the  taste  of  all  men. 

But  the  importance  of  the  subject,  is  by  no  means 
limited  to  public  speakers.  In  this  country,  where  lite- 
rary institutions  of  every  kind  are  springing  up ;  and 
where  the  advantages  of  education  are  open  to  all,  no 
one  is  qualified  to  hold  a  respectable  rank  in  well-bred 
society,  who  is  unable  at  least  to  read,  in  an  interesting 
manner,  the  works  of  others.  They  who  regard  this  as 
2 


14  READING. 


a  polite  accomplishment  merely,  forget  to  how  many  pur- 
poses of  business,  of  rational  entertainment,  and  of  reli- 
gious duty,  the  talent  may  be  applied.  Of  the  multitudes 
who  are  not  called  to  speak  in  public,  including  the  whole 
of  one  sex,  and  ail  but  comparatively  a  few  of  the  other, 
there  is  no  one  to  whom  the  art  of  reading  in  a  graceful 
and  impressive  manner,  may  not  be  of  great  value. 

Besides,  as  the  prevalent  faults  of  public  speakers 
arise  chiefly  from  early  habits  contracted  in  reading,  the 
correction  of  those  faults  should  begin  by  learning  to  read 
well. 

Reading  then,  like  style,  may  be  considered  as  of  two 
sorts,  the  correct y  and  the  rhetorical. 

Correct  reading  respects  merely  the  sense  of  what  is 
read.     When  performed  audibly,  for  the  benefit  of  others, 
it  is  still  only  the  same  sort  of  process  which  one  performs 
silently,  for  his  own  benefit,  when  he  casts  his  eye  along 
the  page,  to  ascertain  the  meaning  of  its  author.     The 
chief  purpose  of  the  correct  reader  is  to  be  intelligible  ; 
and  this  requires  an  accurate  perception  of  grammatical 
relation  in  the  structure  of  sentences ;    a  due  regard  to 
accent  and  pauses,  to  strength  of  voice,  and  clearness  of 
utterance.     This  manner  is  generally  adopted  in  reading 
plain,  unimpassioned  style,  such  as  that  which  we  find  to 
a  considerable  extent  in  those  Psalms  of  David,  and  Pro- 
verbs of  Solomon,  where  the  sentences  are  short,  without 
emphasis.     It  often  prevails  too  in  the  reading  of  narra- 
tive, and  of  public  documents  hi  legislative  and  judicial 
transactions.     The  character  and  purpose  of  a  composi- 
tion may  be  such,  that  it  would  be  as  preposterous  to  read 
it  with  tones  of  emotion,  as  it  would  to  announce  a  pro- 


READING.  15 


position  in  grammar  or  geometry,  in  the  language  of  me- 
taphor. But  though  merely  the  correct  manner,  suits 
many  purposes  of  reading,  it  is  dry  and  inanimate,  and  is 
the  lowest  department  in  the  province  of  delivery.  Still 
the  great  majority,  not  to  say  of  respectable  men,  but  of 
bookish  men,  go  nothing  beyond  this  in  their  attainments 
or  attempts. 

Rhetorical  reading  has  a  higher  object,  and  calls  into 
action  higher  powers.  It  is  not  applicable  to  a  composi- 
tion destitute  of  emotion,  for  it  supposes /ee/iw^.  It  does 
not  barely  express  the  thoughts  of  an  author,  but  express- 
es them  with  the  force,  variety,  and  beauty,  which  feel- 
ing demands.  And  just  here  it  is  that  the  most  stubborn 
difficulty  in  elocution  meets  us; — a  difficulty  arising  from 
the  genius  of  written  language. 

The  value  of  the  graphic  art  consists  in  its  being  a 
medium  for  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  and  for  the 
communication  of  it.  In  the  former  case,  I  refer  to  the 
use  we  make  of  language  in  silent  reading.  The  facility 
with  which  this  is  done  depends  on  our  acquaintance  with 
the  characters  of  which  words  are  formed  ;  the  meaning 
of  words,  singly  ;  and  the  principles  which  govern  their 
combination  in  sentences.  Our  eye  may  glance  over  a 
page  in  our  own  tongue,  so  as  to  perceive  all  its  meaning, 
in  the  same  time  that  would  be  employed  on  a  short  sen- 
tence of  a  language,  which  we  are  only  beginning  to  learn. 
But  in  silent  reading,  though  the  eye  perceives  at  a  look 
the  form  and  meaning  of  words,  it  cannot  perceive  the 
meaning  of  sentences,  without  including  also  grammatical 
relation.  Hence  points  or  pauses  are  indispensable  in 
the  graphic  art,  as  designed  merely  for  the  eye.     We 


16  READING, 


may  take  as  an  example  the  celebrated  response  of  the 
Oracle ; 

Ibis  et  redibis  nunquam  peribis  in  bello. 

The  eye  has  no  means  of  judging  whether  the  meaning 
is,  you  shall  never  return^  or  you  shall  never  perish,  unless 
a  pause  is  inserted  before  or  after  nunquam,  to  determine 
with  which  verb  it  is  grammatically  connected. 

So  far  the  principles  of  written  language  go ; — they 
embrace  words  and  pauses,  and  here  stop.     But  the  mo- 
ment we  come  to  transform  this  written  language  into 
oraly  by  reading  aloud,  a  new  set  of  principles  come  in 
with  their  claims,  for  which  the  arts  of  writing  and  of 
printing  have  made  no  provision.     Here  the  reader  be- 
comes a  speaker,  and  is  required  to  mark  with  his  voice 
the  degrees  of  emphatic  stress,  and  all  the  varieties  of 
pitch,  quantity  of  sound,  and  rate  of  utterance  which  sen- 
timent demands.     But  he  is  trammelled  with  the  narrow- 
ness of  language  as  presented  to  the  eye.     He  has  been 
accustomed  to  regard  words  and  pauses  only,  and  all  the 
movements  of  his  voice  are  adjusted  accordingly.     You 
may  tell  him  that  he  has  a  tone,  but  he  knows  not  what 
you  mean.     Tell  him  to  be  natural, — to  be  in  earnest, 
and  you  have  given  him  an  excellent  direction  indeed, 
but  how  to  apply  it  to  the  case  in  hand,  is  the  difficulty. 
He  is  more  rapid  perhaps,  or  more  loud,  for  this  admoni- 
tion, but  under  the  dominion  of  inveterate  habit,  he  goes 
on  with  his  tone  still. 

To  the  above  defect  in  the  art  of  printing,  let  another 
fact  be  added,  that  a  great  proportion  of  language,  as  it 
appears  in  books,  neither  demands  nor  admits  any  variety 
of  tones  and  emphasis ;  and  another  still,  that,  in  most 


READING. 


men,  habits  of  voice,  once  established,  cannot  be  changed 
without  great  and  persevering  efforts  ;  and  it  will  not  seem 
strange  that  the  number  of  good  readers  is  so  small,  even 
among  educated  and  professional  men.  British  writers 
have  constantly  complained  of  the  dull,  formal  manner  in 
which  the  Liturgy  and  the  sacred  Scriptures  are  read  in 
their  churches.  And  often,  in  the  pulpits  of  this  country, 
the  reading  of  the  Bible  is  apparently  so  destitute,  not  of 
feeling  and  devotion  merely,  but  of  all  just  discrimination, 
as  to  remind  one  of  the  question  put  by  Philip  to  the  no^- 
bleman  of  Ethiopia  ;  '^  Understandest  thou  what  thou 
readest  ?" 

When  we  consider  the  extent  to  which  these  faults 
prevail  in  rhetorical  reading,  and  the  correspondent  faults 
which  of  course  prevail  in  public  speaking,  it  is  time  that 
this  greatly  neglected  subject  should  receive  its  due  share 
of  attention,  amid  the  general  advances  in  other  depart- 
ments of  literature  and  taste. 

Now,  if  there  could  at  once  spring  up  in  our  country 
a  supply  of  teachers,  competent,  as  living  models,  to  reg- 
ulate the  tones  of  boys,  in  the  forming  age, — nothing 
more  would  be  needed.  But,  to  a  great  extent,  these 
teachers  are  to  be  themselves  formed.  And  to  produce 
the  transformation  which  the  case  demands,  some  attempt 
seems  necessary  to  go  to  the  root  of  the  evil,  by  incorpo- 
rating the  principles  of  spoken  language  with  the  written. 
Not  that  such  a  change  should  be  attempted  in  respect  to 
books  generally  ;  but  in  books  of  elocution,  designed  for 
this  single  purpose,  visible  marks  may  be  employed,  suf- 
ficient to  designate  the  chief  points  of  established  corres- 
pondence between  sentiment  and  voice.  These  princi- 
2* 


18  READING. 


pies  being  well  settled  in  the  mind  of  the  pupil,  may  be 
spontaneously  applied,  where  no  such  marks  are  used. 

But  as  this  subject  is  to  be  resumed  under  the  head 
of  inflections,  I  drop  it  here,  with  a  remark  or  two  in  pas- 
sing. 

Be  it  remembered  then,  that  all  directions  as  to  man- 
agement of  the  voice,  must  be  regarded  as  subsidiary  to 
expression  of  feeling,  or  they  are  worse  than  useless. 
*  Emotion  is  the  thing.  One  flash  of  passion  on  the 
cheek,  one  beam  of  feeling  from  the  eye,  one  thrilling 
note  of  sensibility  from  the  tongue, — have  a  thousand 
times  more  value  than  any  exemplification  of  mere  rules, 
where  feeling  is  absent.'*  The  benefit  of  analysis  and 
precept  is,  to  aid  the  teacher  in  making  the  pupil  conscious 
of  his  own  faults,  as  a  prerequisite  to  their  correction. 
The  object  is  to  unfetter  the  soul,  and  set  it  free  to  act. 
In  doing  this  a  notation  for  the  eye,  designed  to  regulate 
the  voice  in  a  few  obvious  particulars,  may  be  of  much 
advantage :  otherwise  why  shall  we  not  dismiss  punctua- 
tion too  from  books,  and  depend  wholly  on  the  teacher 
for  pauses,  as  well  as  tones  ? 

The  reasonable  prejudice  which  some  intelligent  men 
have  felt  against  any  system  of  notation,  arises  from  the 
preposterous  extent  to  which  it  has  been  carried  by  a  few 
popular  teachers,  and  especially  by  their  humble  imitators. 
A  judicious  medium  is  what  we  want.  Five  characters 
in  music,  and  six  vowels  in  writing,  enter  into  an  infinitude 
of  combinations  in  melody  and  language.  So  the  elemen- 
tary modifications  of  voice  in  speaking  are  few,  and  easily 

♦  Knowles. 


READING.  19 


understood ;  and  to  mark  them,  so  far  as  distinction  is 
useful,  does  not  require  a  tenth  part  of  the  rules,  which 
some  have  thought  necessary. 

The  intellectual  and  moral  qualities  indispensable  to 
form  an  orator,  are  brought  into  view  in  the  following  pa- 
ges, no  farther  than  they  modify,delivery.  The  parts  of 
external  oratory,  as  voice,  look,  and  gesture,  are  only  in- 
stiljments  by  which  the  soul  acts  ; — when  the  inspiration 
of  soul  is  absent,  these  instruments  cannot  produce  elo- 
quence. A  treatise  on  delivery  then,  must  presuppose 
the  existence  of  genius,  mental  discipline,  and  elevation 
of  moral  sentiment ; — though  a  distinct  consideration  of 
these  belongs  to  rhetoric,  as  a  branch  of  intellectual  and 
Christian  philosophy. 

The  parts  of  delivery,  to  be  considered  in  their  order, 
are, — articulation,  inflection,  accent  and  empha- 
sis, MODULATION,  AND  ACTION. 

I  premise  here,  once  for  all,  that  I  employ  terms  ac- 
cording to  the  best  modern  use,  with  as  little  as  possible 
of  technical  abstractness.  Elocution,  which  anciently  em- 
braced style,  and  the  whole  art  of  rhetoric,  now  signifies 
manner  of  delivery,  whether  of  our  own  thoughts  or  those 
of  others.  Pronunciation,  which  anciently  signified  the 
whole  of  delivery,  is  now  equivalent  to  orthoepy,  or  the 
proper  utterance  of  single  words.  It  were  easy,  by  a 
critical  disquisition,  to  trace  out  the  etymological  affinities 
of  all  these  terms,  and  to  teach  the  pupil  a  distinction  be- 
tween an  orator,  and  an  eloquent  man,  between  articula- 
tion, and  distinct  enunciation  of  words  &c  ;  but  instead  of 
the  scientific  air  adopted  in  some  works  on  elocution,  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  better,  because  the  simpler  course,  is 


20  READING, 


to  use  words  as  they  will  be  most  readily  understood   by 
men  of  reading  and  taste. 

In  this  view  I  have  chosen  to  make  the  head  of  Mod- 
ulation so  generic,  as  to  include  pitch,  quantity,  rate,  rhe- 
torical pause,  transition,  expression,  and  representation. 


CHAP.  II. 

ARTICUI.ATION. 

Gratis  dedit  ore  rotunda 


Musa  loqui. 


Sect.  1.  Importance  of  a  good  articulation. 

On  whatever  subject,  and  for  whatever  purpose,  a 
man  speaks  to  his  fellow  men,  they  will  never  listen  to 
him  with  interest,  unless  they  can  hear  what  he  says ;  and 
that  without  effort.  If  his  utterance  is  rapid  and  indis- 
tinct, no  weight  of  his  sentiments,  no  strength  or  smooth- 
ness of  voice,  no  excellence  of  modulation,  emphasis,  or 
cadence,  will  enable  him  to  speak  so  as  to  be  heard  with 
pleasure.  For  his  own  sake  too,  the  public  speaker 
should  feel  the  importance  of  a  clear  articulation.  With- 
out this,  the  necessary  apprehension  that  his  voice  may 
not  reach  distant  hearers,  will  lead  to  elevation  of  pitch, 
and  increase  of  quantity  ;  till  he  gradually  forms  a  habit 
of  vociferation,  at  the  expense  of  all  interesting  variety,  if 
not,  (as  in  too  many  cases  it  has  turned  out,)  with  the 


ARTlCULATlOxN.  21 


sacrifice  of  lungs  and  life.  Every  one  who  is  accustom- 
ed to  converse  with  partially  deaf  persons,  knows  how 
much  more  easily  they  hear  a  moderate  voice  with  clear 
articulation,  than  one  that  is  loud,  but  rapid  and  indistinct. 
In  addressing  a  public  assembly,  the  same  advantage  at- 
tends a  voice  of  inferior  strength,  which  marks  the  proper 
distinction  of  letters  and  syllables. 

For  these  reasons  the  ancients  regarded  articulation  as 
the  first  requisite  in  delivery  ; — without  which  indeed,  all 
other  acquisitions  are  vain.  On  this  account  Cicero  says,* 
the  Catuli  were  esteemed  the  best  speakers  of  the  Latin 
language ;  their  tones  being  sweet,  and  their  syllables  ut- 
tered without  effort,  in  a  voice  neither  feeble  nor  clamor- 
ous. So  fastidious  was  the  Roman  ear,  even  among  the 
uneducated,  that  the  same  orator  says,  "  in  repetition  of 
a  verse,  the  whole  theatre  was  in  an  uproar,  if  there  hap- 
pened to  be  one  syllable  too  many  or  too  few.  Not  that 
the  crowd  had  any  notion  of  numbers  ;  nor  could  they 
tell  what  it  was  which  gave  the  offence,  nor  in  what  re- 
spect it  was  a  fault."  It  was  not  because  the  fire  of  gen- 
ius was  wanting  in  the  youthful  orator  of  Athens,  that  his 
audience  repeatedly  met  his  first  efforts  in  speaking,  with 
hisses  ;  but  it  was  on  account  of  his  feeble,  hurried,  stam- 
mering utterance.  To  correct  these  faults  it  was  that  he 
betook  himself  to  speaking  amid  the  sound  of  dashing 
waves,  the  effort  of  walking  up  hill,  and  the  inconvenience 
of  holding  pebbles  in  his  mouth ;  that  he  might  acquire  a 
body  to  his  voice,  and  a  habit  of  distinct  and  deliberate 
utterance. 


*  De  Officiis,  Lib.  I, 


22  ARTICULATION, 


It  has  been  well  said,  that  a  good  articulation  is  to  the 
ear,  what  a  fair  hand-writing,  or  a  fair  type  is  to  the  eye. 
Who  has  not  felt  the  perplexity  of  supplying  a  word,  torn 
away  by  the  seal  of  a  letter ;  or  a  dozen  syllables  of  a 
book,  in  as  many  lines,  cut  off  by  the  carelessness  of  a 
binder  ?  The  same  inconvenience  is  felt  from  a  similar 
omission  in  spoken  language ;  with  this  additional  disad- 
vantage, that  we  are  not  at  liberty  to  stop  and  spell  out 
the  meaning  by  construction.  I  have  heard  a  preacher 
with  a  good  voice,  in  addressing  his  hearers  with  the  ex- 
hortation, "  repent,  and  return  to  the  Lord, " — utter  dis- 
tinctly but  three  syllables,  namely  joew^, — turn^ — Lord, 
Who  would  excuse  \he  printer^  that  should  mutilate  this 
sentence  in  the  same  manner  ?  When  a  man  reads  La- 
tin or  Greek,  we  expect  him  to  utter  nouns,  pronouns, 
and  even  particles,  so  that  their  several  syllables,  especial- 
ly those  denoting  grammatical  inflections,  may  be  heard 
distinctly.  Let  one  noun  in  a  sentence  be  spoken  so  that 
the  ear  cannot  perceive  whether  it  is  in  the  nominative, 
or  accusative,  or  vocative,  or  ablative ;  or  one  verb,  so  as 
to  leave  it  uncertain  to  what  mood  or  tense  it  belongs,  and 
the  sense  of  the  whole  sentence  is  ruined. 

But  in  the  English  language,  abounding  as  it  does 
with  particles,  harsh  syllables,  and  compound  w^ords,  both 
the  necessity  and  the  difficulty  of  a  perfect  utterance  are 
greater  still.  Our  thousands  of  prefix  and  suffix  syllables, 
auxiliaries,  and  little  words  which  mark  grammatical  con- 
nexion, render  bad  articulation  a  fatal  defect  in  delivery. 
One  example  may  illustrate  my  meaning.  A  man  of  in- 
distinct utterance  reads  this  sentence  ;  "  the  magistrates 
ought  to  prove  a  declaration  so  publicly  made."    Whea 


ARTICULATION.  23 


I  perceive  that  his  habit  is  to  strike  only  the  accented  syl- 
lable clearly,  sliding  over  others,  I  do  not  know  whether 
it  is  meant  that  they  ought  to  prove  the  declaration,  or  to 
approve  it,  or  reprove  it, — for  in  either  case  he  would 
speak  only  the  syllable  prove.  Nor  do  I  know,  whether 
the  magistrates  ought  to  do  it,  or  the  magistrate  sought  to 
do  it. 

A  respectable  modern  writer  on  delivery  says  ;  "  In 
just  articulation,  the  words  are  not  to  be  hurried  over ; 
nor  precipitated  syllable  over  syllable ;  nor  as  it  were 
melted  together  into  a  mass  of  confusion.  They  should 
be  neither  abridged,  nor  prolonged  ;  nor  swallowed,  nor 
forced  ;  they  should  not  be  trailed,  nor  drawled,  nor  let 
to  slip  out  carelessly,  so  as  to  drop  unfinished.  They  are 
to  be  delivered  out  from  the  lips  as  beautiful  coins  newly 
issued  from  the  mint,  deeply  and  accurately  impressed, 
perfectly  finished,  neatly  struck  by  the  proper  organs, 
distinct,  in  due  succession,  and  of  due  weight."* 

Sect.  2.    Causes  of  defective  articulation. 

This  arises  from  bad  organs,  or  bad  habits,  or  sounds 
of  difficult  utterance. 

Every  one  knows  how  the  loss  of  a  tooth,  or  a  contu- 
sion on  the  lip,  affects  the  formation  of  oral  sounds. 
When  there  is  an  essential  fault  in  the  structure  of  the 
mouth  ;  when  the  tongue  is  disproportionate  in  length  or 
width,  or  sluggish  in  its  movements  ;  or  the  palate  is  too 
high  or  too  low  ;  or  the  teeth  badly  set  or  decayed,  art 
may  diminish,  but  cannot  fully  remove  the  difficulty. 

In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  however,  imperfect  articula- 

*  Austiu^s  ChiroDomia. 


24  ARTICULATION. 


tion  comes  not  so  much  from  bad  organs  as  from  the 
abuse  of  good  ones.  Sheridan  says  ;  ^'  In  several  north- 
ern counties  of  England,  there  are  scarce  any  of  the  in- 
habitants who  can  pronounce  the  letter  R  at  all.  Yet  it 
would  be  strange  to  suppose  that  all  those  people  should 
have  been  so  unfortunately  distinguished  from  other  na- 
tives of  this  island,  as  to  be  born  with  any  peculiar  defect 
in  their  organs,  when  this  matter  is  so  plainly  to  be  ac- 
counted for  upon  the  principle  of  imitation  and  habit." 
Though  provincialisms  are  fewer  in  this  country  than  in 
most  others,  a  similar  incapacity  is  witnessed,  in  families 
or  districts  more  or  less  extensive,  to  speak  certain  letters 
or  syllables,  which  are  elsewhere  spoken  with  perfect  ease. 
The  same  fact  extends  to  different  nations.  There  are 
some  sounds  of  the  English  language,  as  the  nice  distinc- 
tion between  d  and  t,  and  between  the  two  aspirated 
sounds  of  th,  that  adult  natives  of  France  and  Germany 
cannot  learn  to  pronounce.  Some  sounds  in  their  langua- 
ges are  equally  difficult  to  us ;  but  this  implies  no  original 
difference  of  vocal  organs.  And  surely  no  defect  in  these 
need  be  supposed,  to  account  for  stubborn  imperfections 
in  the  utterance  of  those  who  from  infancy  have  been  un- 
der the  influence  of  vulgar  example. 

Besides  the  mischief  that  comes  from  early  imitation, 
the  animal  and  intellectual  temperament  doubtless  haS 
some  connexion  with*  this  subject.  A  sluggish  action  of 
the  mind  imparts  a  correspondent  character  to  the  action 
of  the  vocal  organs,  and  makes  speech  only  a  succession 
of  indolent,  half-formed  sounds,  more  resembling  the  mut- 
tering of  a  dream  than  the  clear  articulation,  which  we 
ought  to  expect  in  one  who  knows  what  he  is  saying. 


ARTICULATION.  25 


Excess  of  vivacity,  on  the  other  hand,  or  excess  of  sen- 
sibility, often  produce  a  hasty,  confused  utterance.  Del- 
icacy speaks  in  a  timid,  feeble  voice  ;  and  the  fault  of 
indistinctness  is  often  aggravated  in  a  bashful  child,  by  the 
indiscreet  chidings  of  his  teacher,  designed  to  push  him 
into  greater  speed  in  spelling  out  his  early  lessons ;  while 
he  has  little  familiarity  with  the  form  and  sound,  and  less 
with  the  meaning  of  words. 

The  way  is  now  prepared  to  notice  some  of  those  dif- 
ficulties in  articulation,  which  arise  from  the  sounds  to  be 
spoken. 

The^r^^  and  chief  difficulty  lies  in  the  fact  that  arii- 
culation  consists  essentially  in  the  consonant  sounds,  and 
that  many  of  these  are  difficult  of  utterance.  My  limits 
do  not  allow  me  to  illustrate  this  by  a  minute  analysis  of 
the  elements  of  speech.  It  is  evident  to  the  slightest  ob- 
servation that  the  open  vowels  are  uttered  with  ease  and 
strength.  On  these,  public  criers  swell  their  notes  to  so 
great  a  compass.  On  these  too,  the  loudest  notes  of  mu- 
sic are  formed.  Hence  the  great  skill  which  is  requisite 
to  distinct  articulation  in  music  ;  for  the  stream  of  voice, 
which  flows  so  easily  on  the  vowels  and  half  vowels,  is  in- 
terrupted by  the  occurrence  of  a  harsh  consonant ;  and  not 
only  the  sound,  but  the  breath,  is  entirely  stopped  by  a 
mute.  In  singing,  for  example,  any  syllable  which  ends, 
with  p,  k,  rf,  or  t,  all  the  sound  must  be  uttered  on  the 
preceding  vowel;  for  when  the  organs  come  to  the  pro- 
per position  for  speaking  the  mute,  the  voice  instantly 
ceases.  Let  any  experienced  singer,  carefully  try  the 
experiment  of  speaking,  in  the  notes  of  a  slow  tune,  these 
lines ; — 

3 


26  ARTICULATION, 


With  earnest  longings  of  the  mind, 
My  God,  to  thee  1  look. 

Each  syllable  should  be  spoken  by  itself,  with  a  pause 
after  it.     In  this  way  it  will  appear  that  where  the  sylla- 
ble ends  with  a  consonant,  especially  a  mute,  the  stream 
of  sound  is  emitted  on  the  preceding  vowel,  but  is  broken 
off  when  the  consonant  is  finished.     This  is  the  case  with 
the  syllables  mind,  God,  look;    the  moment  the   organs 
come  into  a  position  to  speak  d  or  k  they  are  shut,  so  as 
to  stop  both  sound  and  breath.     But  in  the  syllables  my, 
to,  thee,  I, — the  closing  vowel  sounds  are  perfectly  formed 
at  once,  and  may  be  continued  indefinitely,  without  any 
change  of  the  organs.     The  common  mode  of  singing,  in- 
deed, is  but  a  mere  succession  of  musical  notes,  or  open 
vowel  sounds,  varying  in  pitch,  with   little  attempt  to  arti- 
culate the   consonant  sounds.     This  explains  what  has 
sometimes  been  thought  a  mystery,  that  stammering  per- 
sons find  little  difficulty  in  reading  poetry,  and  none  in 
singing  ;*  whereas  they  stop  at  once  in  speaking,  when 
they  come  to  certain  consonants.     Any  one  who  would 
practically  understand  this  subject,  should  recollect  that 
the  distinction   between  human  speech,  and  the  inarticu- 
late sounds  of  brutes,  lies  not  in  the  vowels,  but  in  the 
consonants ;  and  that  in  a  defective  utterance  of  these, 
bad  articulation  primarily  consists. 

OL/*'[The  reader  is  apprised  that  the  marginal  numbers 
beginning  at  this  place,  direct  to  correspondent  numbers  in 
the  Exercises.  To  avoid  confusion  in  the  body  of  the 
work,  but  few  examples  for  illustration  are  inserted.     Any 

♦  This  is  partly  owing  also  to  a  delibc  rate,  metrical  movement. 


ARTICULATION.  27 


principle  that  requires  special  attention  and  practice  is 
marked  with  6gures  on  the  left  hand,  and  the  same  fig- 
ures in  the  Exercises  point  to  examples  which  should  be 
practiced  with  a  view  to  the  more  perfect  understanding 
of  the  principle.] 

1.]  A  second  difSculty  arises  from  the  immediate  suc- 
cession of  the  same  or  similar  sounds.  The  poet  who  un- 
derstood the  principles  of  euphony  in  language  better  than 
any  other  English  writer,  has  exemplified  this  in  translat- 
ing a  line  of  Homer  respecting  the  stone  of  Sisyphus, 
where  the  recurrence  of  the  aspirates  and  vowels  is  de- 
signed to  represent  difficulty. 

Up  the  high  /till  he  Aeaves  a  huge  round  stone. 

In  another  case  he  purposely  produces  a  heavy  movement, 
by  the  collision  of  open  vowels ; 

Tho'  oft  the  «ar  the  open  vowels  tire. 

Every  scholar  knows  that  the  Greeks  adopted  many 
changes  in  the  combination  of  syllables  to  render  their 
language  euphonic,  by  avoiding  such  collisions.* 

But  a  greater  difficulty  still  is  occasioned  by  the  im- 
mediate recurrence  of  the  same  consonant  sound,  without 
the  intervention  of  a  vowel  or  a  pause.  The  following 
are  examples  ;  "  For  Chris^'5  sake."  "  The  hosts  still 
stood.''  "  The  battle  hsts  stilV  The  illustration  will  be 
more  intelligible  from  examples  in  which  bad  articulation 
affects  the  sense. 

Wastes  and  deserts  ; — Waste  sand  deserts. 
To  obtain  either  ; — To  obtain  neither. 

*  On  this  account  they  wrote  Trarr*  sXsyov  for  nuvra  Usyov ;  cap 
ov  for  ano  ol  ;  x<jyw  for  Koti  iyw ;    didwxsv  avrto  for  didwxa  avTm  &C. 


28  ARTICULATION. 


His  cry  moved  me  ; — His  crime  moved  me. 

He  could  pay  nobody  ; — He  could  pain  nobody. 

Two  successive  sounds  are  to  be  formed  here,  with 
the  organs  in  the  same  position ;  so  that,  without  a  pause 
between,  only  one  of  the  single  sounds  is  spoken ;  and 
the  difficulty  is  much  increased  when  sense  or  grammati- 
cal relation  forbids  such  a  pause  ;  as  between  the  simple 
nominative  and  the  verb,  the  verb  and  its  object,  the  ad- 
jective and  its  substantive.  In  the  last  example,  "  he 
could  pain  nobody," — grammar  forbids  a  pause  between 
pain  and  nobody,  while  orthoepy  demands  one.  But 
change  the  structure  so  as  to  render  a  pause  proper  after 
pain,  and  the  difficulty  vanishes  ; — thus,  "  Though  he 
endured  great  pain,  nobody  pitied  him." 

2.]  A  third  difficulty  arises  from  the  influence  of  ac- 
cent. The  importance  which  this  stress  attaches  to  syl- 
lables on  which  it  falls  requires  them  to  be  spoken  in  a 
more  full  and  deliberate  manner  than  others.  Hence,  if 
the  recurrence  of  this  stress  is  too  close,  it  occasions  heav- 
iness in  utterance ;  if  too  remote,  indistinctness.  An  ex- 
ample of  the  former  kind,  we  have  from  the  poet  before 
mentioned ; 

And  ten  low  words  oft  creep  in  one  dull  line. 

This  too  is  an  additional  reason  for  the  difficult  utter- 
ance of  the  line  lately  quoted  from  the  same  writer  ; 

Up  the  high  hill  he  heaves  a  huge  round  stone. 

The  poet  compels  us,  in  spite  of  metrical  harmony,  to  lay 
an  accent  on  each  syllable. 

But  the  remoteness  of  accent  in  other  cases  involves 
a  greater  difficulty  still ;  because  the  intervening  syllables 


ARTICULATION.  29 


are  liable  to  be  spoken  with  a  rapidity  inconsistent  with 
distinctness,  especially  if  they  abound  with  jarring  conso- 
nants. When  such  close  and  harsh  consonants  come  to- 
gether in  immediate  succession,  and  without  accent,  the 
trial  of  the  organs  is  severe.  Combinations  of  this  kind 
we  have  in  the  words  communicatively^  authoritatively^ 
terrestrialy  reasonableness,  disinterestedness.  And  the 
case  is  worse  still  where  we  preposterously  throw  back 
the  accent  so  as  to  be  followed  by  four  or  five  syllables, 
as  Walker  directs  in  these  words  receptacle,  peremptorily, 
atceptahleness.  While  these  combinations  almost  defy 
the  best  organs  of  speech,  no  one  finds  any  difficulty  in 
uttering  words  combined  with  a  due  proportion  of  liquids, 
and  a  happy  arrangement  of  vowels  and  accents. 

Not  so  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain, 

Flies  o'er  the  unbending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  main. 

The  euphony  of  the  Italian,  in  which  it  is  distinguish- 
ed from  all  other  languages,  consists  chiefly  in  its  freedom 
from  harsh  consonants.* 

3.]  A.  fourth  difficulty  arises  from  a  tendency  of  the 
organs  to  slide  over  unaccented  vowels.  Walker  says, 
"  Where  vowels  are  under  the  accent,  the  prince  and  the 
lowest  of  the  people,  with  very  few  exceptions,  pronounce 
them  in  the  same  manner  :  but  the  unaccented  vowels, 
in  the  mouth  of  the  former,  have  a  distinct,  open  sound ; 
while  the  latter  often  totally  sink  them,  or  change  them 
into  some  other  sound."  There  is  a  large  class  of  words 
beginning  with  pre  ^nA  pro,  in  which  this  distinction  sel- 

*  Even  the  flowing*  Greek  has  such  unseemly  junction  of  con- 
sonants as  to  make  nqoaipd^iyxrixoq  xaxo^irixavuo^iai ,  xaxxsUir. 

3* 


30  ARTICULATION. 


dom  fails  to  appear.  In  prevent,  prevail,  predict,  a  bad 
articulation  sinks  e  of  the  first  syllable  so  as  to  make  pre- 
vent, pr-vail,  pj'-dict.  The  case  is  the  same  with  o  in 
proceed,  profane,  promote  ;  spoken  pr-ceed,  &ic.  So  e  is 
confounded  with  short  u  in  event,  omit,  &ic.  spoken  uvventy 
ummit.  In  the  same  manner  u  is  transformed  into  €,  as 
in  populous,  regular,  singular,  educate,  &c.  spoken  pop-e- 
lous,  reg-e-lar,  ed-e-cate.  A  smart  percussion  of  the 
tongue,  with  a  little  rest  on  the  consonant  before  u,  so  as 
to  make  it  quite  distinct,  would  remove  the  difficulty. 

The  same  sort  of  defect,  it  may  be  added,  often  ap- 
pears in  the  indistinct  utterance  of  consonants  ending  syl- 
lables ;  thus  in  aMempt,  attention,  ef-fect,  of-fence,  the 
consonant  of  the  first  syllable  is  suppressed. 

To  the  foregoing  remarks,  it  may  be  proper  to  add 
three  cautions. 

The  first  is,  in  aiming  to  acquire  a  distinct  articulation, 
lake  care  not  to  form  one  that  is  measured  and  mechani- 
cal. Something  of  preciseness  is  very  apt  to  appear  at 
first,  when  we  attempt  to  correct  the  above  faults;  but 
practice  and  perseverance  will  enable  us  to  combine  ease 
and  fluency  with  clearness  of  utterance.  The  child  in 
passing  from  his  spelling  manner,  is  ambitious  to  become 
a  swift  reader,  and  thus  falls  into  a  confusion  of  organs 
that  is  to  be  cured  only  by  retracing  the  steps  which  pro- 
duced it.  The  remedy,  however,  is  no  better  than  the 
fault  if  it  runs  into  a  scan-ning,  pe'dan'tic  for-mal-i-ty, 
giving  undue  stress  to  particles  and  unaccented  syllables ; 
thus,  "  He  is  the  man  of  all  the  world  whom  I  rejoice  to 
meet."  Perhaps  there  is  something  in  the  technical  for- 
malities of  language  attached  to  the  bar,  which  inclines 


ARTICULATION. 


some  speakers  of  that  profession,  to  this  fault.  Iti  the 
pulpit,  there  is  sometimes  an  artificial  solemnity,  which 
produces  a  drawling,  measured  articulation,  of  a  still  more 
exceptionable  kind. 

In  some  parts  of  our  country,  inhabited  by  descend- 
ants of  foreigners,  especially  the  Dutch,  there  is  a  preva- 
lent habit  of  sinking  the  sound  of  e  or  i  in  words  where 
English  usage  preserves  it,  as  in  rebel,  chapel,  Latin, — 
spoken  rebH,  chapU,  Lafn,  In  other  cases,  where  Eng- 
lish usage  suppresses  the  vowel,  the  same  persons  speak 
it  with  marked  distinctness,  or  turn  it  into  u;  as  ev*n,  op^n^ 
heaven, — pronounced  ev-un,  op-un,  heav-un. 

The  second  caution  is, — let  the  close  of  sentences  be 
spoken  clearly  ;  with  sufficient  strength,  and  on  the  proper 
pitch,  to  bring  out  the  meaning  completely.  No  part  of 
a  sentence  is  so  important  as  the  close,  both  in  respect  to 
sense  and  harmony. 

The  third  caution  is, — ascertain  your  own  defects  of 
articulation,  by  the  aid  of  some  friend,  and  then  devote  a 
short  time  statedly  and  daily,  to  correct  them.  It  is  im- 
possible, without  a  resolute  experiment,  to  know  hov\r 
much  the  habit  of  reading  aloud,  besides  all  its  other  ad- 
vantages, may  do  for  a  public  speaker  in  giving  distinctness 
to  his  delivery."^  At  first,  this  exercise  should  be  in  the 
hearing  of  a  second  person,  who  may  stop  the  reader,  and 


*  A  friend  of  mine,  a  respectable  lawyer,  informed  me  that,  in 
a  court  which  he  usually  attended,  there  was  often  much  difficulty 
to  hear  what  was  spoken  at  the  bar,  and  from  the  bench.  -One  of 
the  judges,  however,  a  man  of  slender  health,  and  somewhat  ad- 
vanced in  age,  was  heard  with  perfect  ease  in  every  part  of  the 
court  room,  whenever  he  spoke.  *So  observable  was  the  difference 
between  him  and  others,  that  the  fact  was  mentioned  to  him  as  a 


32  ARTICULATION. 


point  out,  at  the  moment,  the  fault  to  be  corrected.  For 
some  time  the  rate  of  utterance  should  be  slower  than  usu- 
al, and  directed  to  the  single  point  of  distinctness,  dismiss- 
ing all  regard  to  the  sense  of  words,  lest  this  lead  him  to 
forget  the  object.  To  make  sure  of  this  end,  if  he  can- 
not do  it  otherwise,  he  may  pronounce  the  words  of  a 
common  vocabulary.  At  any  rate,  let  him  make  a  list  of 
such  words,  and  combinations  as  he  has  found  most  diffi- 
cult to  his  organs,  and  repeat  them  as  a  set  exercise.  If 
he  has  been  accustomed  to  say  omnip-e-tent,  pop-e-lous^ 
pr-mote,  pr-vent,  let  him  learn  to  speak  the  unaccented 
vowels  properly. 

IMPEDIMENTS. 

As  directly  connected  with  articulation,  a  few  remarks 
on  impediments  seem  to  be  necessary.  Stammering  may 
doubtless  exist  from  such  causes,  and  to  such  degree  as 
to  be  insurmountable ;  though  in  most  cases,  a  complete 
remedy  is  attainable  by  the  early  use  of  proper  means. 
They  who  have  given  most  attention  to  this  defect,  sup- 
pose that  it  should  generally  be  ascribed  to  some  infelici- 
ty of  nervous  temperament.  When  this  is  the  cause,  ea- 
gerness of  emotion,  fear  of  strangers,  surprise,  anxiety, 
— any  thing  that  produces  a  sudden  rush  of  spirits,  will 
communicate  a  spasmodic  action  to  the  organs  of  speech. 
The  process  of  cure  in  such  a  case,  must  begin  with  such 
attention  to  bodily  health,  as  will  give  firmness  to  the  ner- 

subject  of  curiosity.  The  judge  explained  it  by  sayings,  that  his 
vocal  powers,  which  were  originally  quite  imperfect,  had  acquired 
clearness  and  strength  by  the  long  contiaued  habit  of  reading;  aloud, 
for  about  half  an  hour,  every  day. 


ARTICULATION.  33 


vous  system,  and  produce  a  calm,  clear,  and  regular  ac- 
tion of  the  mind. 

With  this  preparation,  it  is  best  not  to  put  the  stam- 
merer at  first  to  the  hardest  task  of  his  organs,  but  to  be- 
gin at  a  distance,  and  come  to  the  difficulty  by  regular 
approaches.  The  course  that  has  been  pursued,  with 
perfect  success,  by  one  respectable  teacher,  is  this.  The 
pupil  is  to  begin  with  reading  verse ;  the  more  simple  and 
regular,  the  better  : — he  is  to  mark  the  feet  distinctly 
with  his  voice,  and  beat  time  with  his  hand  or  toe  to  the 
movement.  From  verse  of  this  regular  structure,  he  may 
proceed  to  that  which  is  less  uniform  in  metrical  order  ; 
then  to  prose,  of  the  elevated  and  poetic  kind  ;  then  to 
common  prose  ;  and  then  by  degrees  to  the  difficult  com- 
binations at  which  he  had  been  accustomed  to  stammer. 

In  repeating  certain  words  there  may  be  an  obstinate 
struggle  of  the  organs ;  as  in  the  attempt  to  pronounce 
parable^  the  p  may  be  spoken  again  and  again,  while  the 
remainder  of  the  word  does  not  follow.  In  such  a  case, 
the  advice  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Darwin  was,  that  the 
stammerer  should,  in  a  strong  voice,  eight  or  ten  times, 
repeat  the  word,  without  the  initial  letter,  or  with  an  as- 
pirate before  it ;  as  arable^  harable  ;  and  then  speak  it 
softly,  with  the  initial  letter  j?, — parable.  This  should  be 
practised  for  weeks  or  months,  upon  every  word,  where 
the  difficulty  of  utterance  chiefly  occurs. 


CHAP.  III. 


TOI7ES  AND  INFLECTIONS, 

The  former  of  these  terms  is  more  comprehensive 
than  the  latter,  embracing,  in  its  most  extensive  sense,  all 
sounds  of  the  human  voice.  In  a  more  restricted  and 
proper  sense,  we  mean  by  tones  those  sounds  which  stand 
connected  with  some  rhetorical  principle  of  language.  In 
a  few  cases  passion  is  expressed  by  tones  which  have  no 
inflection ;  but  more  commonly  inflection  is  what  gives 
significance  to  tones.  Except  a  few  general  remarks 
here,  no  consideration  of  tones  seems  necessary,  distinct 
from  the  subjects  of  the  following  chapters,  especially 
Modulation. 

Sect.  1.   Tones  considered  as  a  language  of  emotion* 

Sight  has  commonly  been  considered  as  the  most 
active  of  all  our  senses.  As  a  source  of  emotion,  we  de- 
rive impressions  more  various,  and  in  some  respects  more 
vivid,  from  this  sense,  than  from  any  other.  Yet  the  class 
of  tender  emotions,  such  as  grief  and  pity,  are  probably 
excited  more  strongly  by  the  ear  than  the  eye. 

Whether  any  reason  can  be  assigned  for  this  or  not, 
the  fact  seems  unquestionable.  A  groan  or  shriek  utter- 
ed by  the  human  voice,  is  not  only  more  intelligible  than 
words,  but  more  instantly  awakens  our  sensibility  than  any 
signs  of  distress,  that  are  presented  to  the  sight.     Our 


TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS.  35 

sympathy  in  the  sufferings  of  irrational  animals,  is  increas- 
ed in  the  same  way.  The  violent  contortions  of  the  fish, 
in  the  pangs  of  death,  being  expressed  without  the  aid  of 
vocal  organs,  very  faintly  excite  our  compassion,  compar- 
ed with  the  plaintive  bleatings  of  an  expiring  lamb.  And 
a  still  stronger  distinction  seems  to  prevail  among  brutes 
themselves.  For  while  the  passion  of  fear  in  them,  is  as- 
sociated chiefly  with  objects  of  sight,  that  of  pity  is  awak- 
ened, almost  exclusively,  by  the  sense  of  hearing.  The 
cry  of  distress  from  a  suffering  animal,  instinctively  calls 
around  him  his  fellows  of  the  same  species,  though  this 
cry  is  an  unknown  tongue  to  animals  of  any  other  class. 
At  the  same  time  his  own  species,  if  he  utters  no  cries, 
while  they  see  him  in  excruciating  agony,  manifest  no 
sympathy  in  his  sufferings. 

Without  inquiring  minutely  into  the  philosophy  of  vo*- 
cal  tones,  as  being  signs  of  emotion,  we  must  take  the 
fact  for  granted  that  they  are  so.  And  no  man  surely 
will  question  the  importance  of  this  language  in  oratory, 
when  he  sees  that  it  is  understood  by  mere  children ;  and 
that  even  his  horse  or  his  dog  distinguish  perfectly  those 
sounds  of  his  voice  which  express  his  anger  or  his  appro- 
bation. 

Sect.  2.   Utility  of  systematic  attention  to  tones  and  in- 
flections. 

Analysis  of  vocal  inflections  bears  the  same  relation  to 
oratory,  that  the  tuning  of  an  instrument  does  to  music. 
The  rudest  performer  in  this  latter  art  knows,  that  his  first 
business  is  to  regulate  the  instrument  he  uses,  when  it  is 
so  deranged  as  to  produce  no  perfect  notes,  or  to  produce 


36  TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS. 

Others  than  those  which  he  intends.  The  voice  is  the 
speaker's  instrument,  which  by  neglect  or  mismanage- 
ment is  often  so  out  of  tune  as  not  to  obey  the  will  of  him 
who  uses  it.  To  cure  bad  habits  is  the  first  and  hardest 
task  in  elocution.  Among  instructors  of  children  scarce- 
ly one  in  fifty  thinks  of  carrying  his  precepts  beyond  cor- 
rectness in  uttering  words,  and  a  mechanical  attention  to 
pauses.  So  that  the  child  who  speaks  the  words  of  a 
sentence  distinctly  and  fluently,  and  "  minds  the  stops,"  as 
it  is  called,  is  without  scruple,  pronounced  a  good  reader. 
Hence,  among  the  multitude  who  consider  themselves  as 
good  readers,  there  are  so  few  who  give  by  their  voice 
that  just  expression  of  sentiment,  which  constitutes  the 
spirit  and  soul  of  delivery. 

The  unseemly  tones  which  are  contracted  in  child- 
hood, are  often  so  deeply  fixed,  as  not  easily  to  yield  to 
the  dictates  of  a  manly  intellect,  and  a  cultivated  taste,  in 
after  life.  These  habits  are  acquired,  almost  unavoida- 
bly by  children,  in  consequence  of  their  being  accustomed 
to  read  what  they  do  not  understand.  The  man  who 
should  prepare  a  school-book,  containing  proper  lessons 
for  beginners  in  the  art  of  reading,  with  familiar  directions 
for  managing  the  voice,  would  probably  do  a  greater  ser- 
vice to  the  interests  of  elocution,  than  has  yet  been  done 
by  the  most  elaborate  works  on  the  subject,  in  the  Eng- 
lish language.*     The  tones  of  the  common  school  are  of- 


*  Since  this  remark  was  made  in  my  pamphlet  on  Inflection, 
sereral  small  works,  well  adapted  to  the  purpose  abovementioned 
have  been  published  ;  and  one  is  now  in  press,  entitled  Lessons 
in  Declamation,  by  Mr,  Russell  of  Boston,  concerning  the  utility  of 
which  high  expectations  are  justified  by  the  skill  of  the  Author,  as 
a  Teacher  of  Elocution. 


TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS.  37 

ten  retained  and  confirmed  at  the  college,  and  thence, 
(with  some  distinguished  exceptions,)  are  carried  in  all 
their  strength  to  the  bar,  and  especially  to  the  pulpit. 
This  fault  is  by  no  means  peculiar  to  America  ;  it  prevails 
certainly  not  less  in  the  schools  and  universities  of  Eng- 
land and  Scotland,  than  in  our  own. 

But  what  is  the  remedy  ?  It  has  often  been  said,  the 
only  good  canon  of  elocution  is, — '*  enter  into  the  spirit  of 
what  you  utter."  If  we  were  to  have  but  one  direction, 
doubtless  this  should  be  the  one.  Doubdess  it  is  better 
than  all  others  to  prevent  \he  formation  of  bad  habits;— 
and  better  than  any  other  alone,  as  a  remedy  for  such  hab- 
its ;  but  when  these  are  formed,  it  is  by  no  means  suf5- 
cient  of  itself  for  their  cure.  To  do  what  is  right,  with  un- 
perverted  faculties,  is  ten  times  easier  than  to  undo  what 
is  wrong.  How  often  do  we  see  men  of  fine  understand- 
ing and  delicate  sensibility,  who  utter  their  thoughts  in 
conversation,  with  all  the  varied  intonations  which  senti- 
ment requires  ;  but  the  moment  they  come  to  read  or 
speak  in  a  formal  manner,  adopt  a  set  of  artificial  tones 
utterly  repugnant  to  the  spirit  of  a  just  elocution.  Shall 
we  say  that  such  men  do  not  understand  what  they  speak 
in  public,  as  well  as  what  they  speak  in  conversation  f 
Plainly  the  difference  arises  from  a  perverse  hahit,  which 
prevails  over  them  in  one  case,  and  not  in  the  other. 
Many  instances  of  this  sort  I  have  known,  where  a  man 
has  been  fully  sensible  of  something  very  wrong  in  his 
tones,  but  has  not  been  able  to  see  exactly  what  the  fault 
is  ;  and  after  a  few  indefinite  and  unsuccessful  efforts  at 
amendment,  has  quietly  concluded  to  go  on  in  the  old  way. 
So  he  must  conclude,  so  long  as  good  sense  and  emo- 

4 


38  TONES  AND   INFLECTIONS. 

tion  are  not  an  equal  match  for  bad  habits,  without  a 
knowledge  of  those  elementary  principles,  by  which  the 
needed  remedy  is  to  be  applied. 

Skill  in  vocal  inflections,  it  is  granted,  cannot  of  itself 
make  an  orator.  Nor  can  skill  in  words.  Who  does 
not  know  that  with  an  ample  stock  of  words  at  command, 
a  man  may  be  little  more  than  a  chattering  animal  ?  Yet 
who  can  be  an  orator  without  words.'*  We  have  seen 
that  a  man,  with  no  defects  of  intellect  or  of  sensibility, 
may  have  great  faults  in  the  management  of  his  voice  as 
a  speaker.  These  perhaps  he  acquired  in  childhood,  just 
as  he  learned  to  speak  at  all,  or  to  speak  English  rather 
than  French, — by  imitation.  His  tones  both  of  passion 
and  of  articulation,  are  derived  from  an  instinctive  corres- 
pondence between  the  ear  and  voice.  If  he  had  been 
born  deaf,  he  would  have  possessed  neither.  Now  in 
what  way  shall  he  break  up  his  bad  habits,  without  so 
much  attention  to  the  analysis  of  speaking  sounds,  that  he 
can  in  some  good  degree  distinguish  those  which  differ, 
and  imitate  those  which  he  would  wish  to  adopt  or  avoid  f 
How  shall  he  correct  a  tone,  while  he  cannot  understand 
why  it  needs  correction,  because  he  chooses  to  remain  ig- 
norant of  the  only  language  in  which  the  fault  can  possi- 
bly be  described  ?  Let  him  study  and  accustom  himself 
to  apply  a  few  elementary  principles,  and  then  he  may 
at  least  be  able  to  understand  what  are  the  defects  of  his 
own  intonations.  I  do  not  say  that  this  attainment  may  be 
made  with  equal  facility,  or  to  an  equal  extent,  by  all  men. 
But  to  an  important  extent  it  may  be  made  by  every  one  ; 
and  that  with  a  moderate  share  of  the  effort  demanded  by 
most  other  valuable  acquisitions  ;  I  might  say  with  one 


TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS.  39 

half  the  time  and  attention  that  are  requisite  to  attain  skill 
in  music. 

It  may  be  doubted,  however,  by  some,  whether  any 
theory  of  vocal  inflections,  to  be  studied  and  applied  by 
the  pupil,  must  not  tend  to  perplex  rather  than  to  facilitate 
delivery.  The  same  doubt  may  as  well  be  extended  to 
every  department  of  practical  knowledge.  To  think  of 
the  rules  of  syntax,  every  sentence  we  speak,  or  of  the 
rules  of  orthography  and  style,  every  time  we  take  up  our 
pen  to  write,  would  indeed  be  perplexing.  The  remedy 
prescribed  by  common  sense  in  all  such  cases,  is,  not  to 
discard  correct  theories,  but  to  make  them  so  familiar  as 
to  govern  our  practice  spontaneously,  and  without  reflec- 
tion. 

But  if  one  has  already  the  perfect  management  of  his 
voice,  of  what  service,  it  is  said,  are  theoretic  principles  to 
him  ?  Of  very  little  certainly ;  just  as  rules  of  syntax 
would  be  needless  to  him,  who  could  write  and  speak  cor- 
rectly without  them.  But  the  number  of  those  who  sup*- 
pose  themselves  to  be  of  this  description,  is  doubtless 
much  larger  than,  of  those  who  really  are  so.  And  be- 
sides, this  reasoning  hardly  applies  to  those  who  are  des- 
tined for  literary  professions.  A  mere  peasant  may  speak 
a  sentence  of  good  English,  and  do  it  with  proper  empha- 
sis and  inflections  ;  while  he  is  a  stranger  to  all  the  prin- 
ciples of  grammar,  and  of  elocution.  But  a  scholar  should 
aim  at  something  more.  The  question  as  to  voice,  is,  are 
there  any  settled  principles  in  elocution  ?  When  a  skilful 
teacher  has  read  to  his  pupils  a  sentence  for  their  imitation, 
is  there  any  reason  why  he  should  have  read  it  as  he  did  ? 
— or  why  he  or  they  should  read  it  again  in  the  same  man- 


40  TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS.  * 

ner  ?  Can  that  reason  be  made  intelligible  ?  Doubtless 
it  may,  if  it  is  founded  on  any  stated  law  of  delivery.  The 
pupils  then,  need  not  rest  in  a  servile  imitation  of  their 
teacher's  manner,  but  are  entitled  to  ask  why  his  empha- 
sis, or  inflection,  or  cadence  was  so,  and  not  otherwise  ; 
and  then  they  may  be  able  to  transfer  the  same  principles 
to  other  cases.  Then  too  one  skilful  teacher,  by  means 
of  such  intelligible  analysis,  may  assist  other  teachers, 
whose  capacity  is  equal  to  his  own,  but  whose  experience 
has  been  less  than  his.  For  myself,  I  must  say,  that  af- 
ter all  I  have  read  of  Garrick,  I  had  no  distinct  conception 
of  his  manner  in  delivering  any  given  passage,  till  I  saw 
Walker's  description  of  his  inflections  in  the  grand  and  ter- 
rible adjuration  of  Macbeth.  [See  Ex.  p.  202.]  If  Quinc- 
tilian  had  given  me  the  same  precise  information  respect- 
ing the  turns  of  Cicero's  voice,  in  some  interesting  passage 
of  his  orations,  it  would  be  no  small  gratification  of  my 
curiosity. 

Now,  while  every  tyro  has  known  for  centuries,  that 
the  verb  has  a  stated,  grammatical  relation  to  its  nomina- 
tive, and  while  certain  tones  have  occurred  in  as  stated 
a  relation  to  certain  sentiments  of  the  mind ;  it  is  but  a 
short  time  since  the  tones  of  articulate  language  have  been 
considered  as  capable  of  any  useful  classification.  Sev- 
eral years  of  childhood  are  particularly  devoted  to  acquire 
a  correct  orthography  and  accentuation  ;  and  to  promote 
a  knowledge  of  these  and  of  syntax,  rules  have  been  fram- 
ed with  great  care.  But  what  valuable  directions  have 
our  elementary  books  contained  as  to  the  management  of 
the  voice  in  reading  ? — an  art  which  lies  at  the  bottom  of 
all  good  delivery.     Here  our  embryo  orators,  on  their 


1*0^ES  AND  INFLECTIONS.  41 

way  to  the  bar,  the  senate,  and  the  pulpit,  are  turned  off 
with  a  few  meagre  rules,  and  are  expected  to  become  ac- 
complished speakers,  without  having  ever  learned  to  read 
a  common  passage,  in  a  graceful  and  impressive  manner. 
Fifty  years  ago  the  general  direction  given  by  teachers  in 
reading  was,  that  in  every  sort  of  sentence  the  voice  should 
be  kept  up  in  a  rising  tone  till  the  regular  cadence  is 
formed,  at  the  close.  This  was  exactly  adapted  to  ruin 
all  variety  and  force,  and  to  produce  a  set  of  reading  tones 
completely  at  variance  with  those  of  conversation  and 
speaking.  The  more  particular  directions  as  to  voice,  for- 
merly given  in  books  for  learners,  are  the  three  following  : 
that  a  parenthesis  requires  a  quick  and  w^eak  pronuncia- 
tion ; — that  the  voice  should  rise  at  the  end  of  an  inter- 
rogative sentence, — and  fall  at  the  end  of  one  that  is  de- 
clarative. The  first  is  true  without  exception  ; — the 
second,  only  in  that  sort  of  question  which  is  answered  by 
yes  or  no  ;  and  the  third  is  true  with  the  exception  of  all 
cases  where  emphasis  carries  the  voice  to  a  high  note  at 
the  close  of  a  sentence.  So  that,  among  the  endless  vari- 
eties of  modification  which  the  voice  assumes  in  speaking, 
but  one  was  accurately  marked  before  the  time  of  Walker. 
To  his  labors,  imperfect  as  a  first  effort  of  the  kind  neces- 
sarily must  be,  the  world  will  ultimately  acknowledge 
great  obligations.  Such,  however,  is  the  intrinsic  diffi- 
culty of  representing  sounds^  by  symbols  adapted  to  the 
eye,  that  no  precepts  on  this  subject  can  be  made  com- 
pletely intelligible,  without  the  aid  of  r^^emplification  by 
the  teacher's  voice.  The  ear  too  is  an  organ,  which  in 
different  men,  possesses  various  degrees  of  sensibility  and 
accuracy  in  discriminating  sounds  5  though  it  may  acquire 

4^ 


42  TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS. 

a  good  degree  of  skill  in  speaking  tones,   without  skill  in 
music,  as  appears  from  the  case  of  Walker  himself. 

Sect.  3.     Description  of  Inflections. 

The  absolute  modifications  of  the  voice  in  speaking 
are  four  ;  namely,  monotone,  rising  inflection,  falling  in- 
flection, and  circumflex.  The  first  may  be  marked  to  the 
eye  by  a  horizontal  line,  thus,  ("")  the  second  thus,  (^)the 
third  thus,  (^)  the  fourth  thus,  (  ^). 

The  monotone  is  a  sameness  of  sound  on  successive 
syllables,  which  resembles  that  produced  by  repeated 
strokes  on  a  bell.  Perhaps  this  is  never  carried  so  far 
as  to  amount  to  perfect  sameness  ;  but  it  often  approach- 
es this  point,  so  as  to  be  both  irksome  and  ludicrous. 
Still,  more  or  less  of  this  quality  belongs  to  grave  deliv- 
ery, especially  in  elevated  description,  or  where  emotions 
of  sublimity  or  reverence  are  expressed.  Any  one  would 
be  shocked,  for  example,  at  an  address  to  Jehovah,  utter- 
ed with  the  sprightly  and  varied  tones  of  conversation. 
The  following  lines  have  often  been  given  as  a  good  ex- 
ample of  the  dignity  and  force  attending  the  monotone 

when  properly  used. 

Pligh  on  a  throne  of  royal  state,  which  far 
Outshone  the  wealth  of  Ormus  or  of  Ind  ; 
Or  where  the  gorgeous  East,  with  richest  hand, 
Show'rs,  on  her  kings  barbaric,  pearl  and  gold, 
Satan  exalted  sat. 
The  rising  inflection  turns  the  voice  upward,  or  ends 

higher  than  it  begins.     It  is  heard  invariably  in  the  direct 

question  ;  as,  Will  you  go  toddy  ? 

The  falling  inflection  turns  the  voice  downwards,  or 

ends  lower  than  it  begins.     It  is  heard  in  the  answer  to  a 

question;  as,  ./Vd  ;  I  shall  go  tomdrrow. 


TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS.  43 

As  the  whole  doctrine  of  inflections  depends  on  these 
two  simple  slides  of  the  voice,  one  niore  explanation 
seems  necessary,  as  to  the  degree  in  which  each  is  applied, 
under  different  circumstances.  In  most  cases  where  the 
rising  slide  is  used,  it  is  only  a  gentle  turn  of  the  voice 
upwards,  one  or  two  notes.  In  cases  of  emotion,  as  in 
the  spirited,  direct  question,  the  slide  may  pass  through 
five  or  eight  notes.  The  former  may  be  called  the  com- 
mon rising  inflection,  the  latter  the  intensive.  Just  the 
same  distinction  exists  in  the  falling  inflection.  Many, 
not  aware  of  this  difference,  have  carried  Walker's  princi- 
ples to  an  extreme.  In  the  question,  uttered  with  sur- 
prise, "  Are  you  going  to-ddy  ?"  the  slide  is  intensive. 
But  in  the  following  case,  it  is  common,  "  as  fame  is  but 
bredthj  as  riches  are  transitory,  and  life  itself  is  uncertain, 
so  we  should  seek  a  better  portion. ^^  To  carry  the  rising 
slide  in  the  latter  case,  as  far  as  in  the  former,  is  a  great 
fault,  though  not  an  uncommon  one.    See  p.  88  and  226. 

The  circumflex  is  a  union  of  the  two  inflections,  some- 
times on  one  syllable,  and  sometimes  on  several.  Walker's 
first  example  extends  it  to  three  syllables,  though  his  de- 
scription limits  it  to  one.  It  begins  with  the  falling  and  ends 
with  the  rising  slide.  This  turn  of  the  voice  is  not  so  of- 
ten used,  nor  so  easily  distinguished  as  the  two  simple 
slides  just  mentioned  ;  though  it  occurs,  if  I  mistake  not, 
especially  in  familiar  language,  much  oftener  than  Walker 
seems  to  suppose.  In  many  cases  where  it  is  used,  there 
is  something  conditional  in  the  thought;  as,  /  may  go  to- 
morrow,  though  I  cannot  go  todcty.  Irony  or  scorn  is 
also  expressed  by  it ;  as,  "  They  tell  us  to  be  moderate ; 
but  they,  they  are  to  revel  in  profusion."  On  the  words 
marked  in  these  examples,  there  is  a  significant  twisting 


44  TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS. 

of  the  voice  downwards  and  then  upwards,  without  which 
the  sense  is  not  expressed.* 

As  to  Mr.  Walker's  remarks  on  another  circumflex, 
which  he  calls  the  falling,  I  must  doubt  the  accuracy  ei- 
ther of  his  ear  or  my  own  ;  for  in  his  examples  I  can- 
not distinguish  it  from  the  falling  slide,  modified  perhaps 
by  circumstances,  but  having  nothing  of  that  distinctive 
character,  which  belongs  to  the  circumflex  just  described. 
In  mimickry  and  burlesque,  I  can  perceive  a  falling  cir- 
cumflex, in  a  few  cases,  but  it  is  applicable  I  think  very 
rarely,  if  ever,  in  grave  delivery. f 

Besides  these  absolute  modifications  of  voice,  there  are 
others  which  may  be  called  relative,  and  which  may  be 
classed  under  the  four  heads  of  pitchy  quantity,  rate,  and 
quality.     These  may  be  represented  thus ; 

PiUK.\\^.;       Quanta,,  j  •»??;.       RaU.\<S^^^       ««»'i'»- i  jjlj^tic. 

As  these  relative  modifications  of  voice  assume  almost 
an  endless  variety  according  to  sentiment  and  emotion  in 
a  speaker,  they  belong  to  the  chapter  on  modulation. 

*  We  may  take  an  example,  which  gives  these  three  inflections 
of  voice  successively  ;  though  perhaps  it  will  hardly  be  intelligible 
to  a  mere  beginner.  The  abrupt  clause  in  Hamlet's  soliloquy,— 
To  die^  to  sleepy  no  more^  is  commouly  read  with  the  falling  slide 
on  each  word,  thus  ;  to  rfic,  to  sleep  no  more^  expressing  no  sense, 
or  a  false  one  ;  as  if  Hamlet  meant,  "  When  I  die,  I  shall  no  more 
sleep."  But  place  the  rising  inflection  on  rfte,  the  falling  on  deep, 
and  the  circumflex  on  no  more,  and  you  have  this  sense  ;  "  To  die  ? 
— what  is  it  ? — no  terrible  event; — it  is  merely  falling  asleep:" — 
thus,  to  die, — to  sleep, — no  more.  Some  skilful  readers  give  the  ri- 
sing slide  to  the  last  clause,  turning  it  into  a  question  or  exclama- 
tion ; — no  m6re  / — "  is  this  all  ?"  But  the  circumflex  seems  better 
to  represent  the  desperate  hardihood  with  which  Hamlet  was  rea- 
soning himself  into  a  contempt  of  death. 

t  I  am  aware  that  some,  whose  opinion  I  greatly  respect,  think 
Walker  to  be  right  on  this  point.  Doabtless  they  mean  something 
by  falling  circumflex,  of  which  I  have  been  able  to  g^inno  distinct 
apprehension,  except  aa  stated  above. 


TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS.  45 

Sect.  4.     Classification  of  Inflections, 

This  is  the  point  on  which,  most  of  all,  Walker  is  defec- 
tive. The  conviction  that  he  was  treating  a  difficult  subject, 
led  him  into  the  very  common  mistake  of  attempting  to 
make  his  meaning  plain  by  prolixity  of  remark,  and  mul- 
tiplicity of  rules.  One  error  of  this  respectable  writer  is, 
that  he  attempts  to  carry  the  application  of  his  principles 
too  far.  To  think  of  reducing  to  exact  system  all  the  in- 
flections to  be  employed  in  the  delivery  of  plain  language, 
where  there  is  no  emotion,  and  no  emphasis,  is  idle  in- 
deed. Many  who  have  attempted  to  follow  the  theory 
to  this  extreme,  perplexed  with  the  endless  list  of  rules 
which  it  occasions,  have  become  discouraged.  Whereas 
the  theory  is  of  no  use  except  in  reference  to  the  rhetoric- 
cal  principles  of  language,  where  tones  express  sentiment. 
And  even  in  passages  of  this  sort,  the  significant  inflec- 
tions belong  only  to  ^,few  words,  which,  being  properly 
spoken,  determine  of  necessity  the  manner  of  speaking 
the  rest,^  The  maxim,  that  "  there  cannot  be  too  much 
of  a  good  thing,"  has  led  some  to  multiply  marks  of  in- 
flection on  unimportant  words ;  just  as  others,  in  their 
zeal  for  emphasis,  have  multiplied  Italic  words  in  a  page, 
till  all  discrimination  is  confounded. 

Another  fault  of  Walker  is,  that  the  elements  of  speak- 
ing tones  are  not  presented  in  any  intelligible  method  ; 
but  are  so  promiscuously  intermingled  throughout  his 
work,  as  to  give  it  the  character  of  obscurity.  The  view 
of  these  elements  to  which  he  devotes   about  a  hundred 

*  This  I  endeavor  to  illustrate  in  the  discussion  of  Emphasis 
and  Modulation. 


46  TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS. 

and  fifty  pages,  after  he  enters  on  inflections,  I  here  at- 
tempt to  comprise  in  a  short  compass.  In  order  to  ren- 
der the  new  classification  which  1  have  given  intelligible, 
I  have  chosen  examples  chiefly  from  colloquial  language ; 
because  the  tones  of  conversation  ought  to  be  the  basis  of 
delivery,  and  because  these  only  are  at  once  recognised 
by  the  ear.  Being  conformed  to  nature,  they  are  instinc- 
tively right ;  so  that  scarcely  a  man  in  a  million  uses  ar- 
tificial tones  in  conversation.  And  this  one  fact,  I  remark 
in  passing,  furnishes  a  standing  canon  to  the  learner  in  el- 
ocution. In  contending  with  any  bad  habit  of  voice,  let 
him  break  up  the  sentence  on  which  the  difficulty  occurs, 
and  throw  it,  if  possible,  into  the  colloquial  form.  Let 
him  observe  in  himself  and  others,  the  turns  of  voice 
which  occur  in  speaking,  familiarly  and  earnestly,  on  com- 
mon occasions.  Good  taste  will  then  enable  him  to  trans- 
fer to  public  delivery  the  same  turns  of  voice,  adapting 
them,  as  he  must  of  necessity,  to  the  elevation  of  his  subject. 
The  examples  set  down  under  each  rule,  should  be 
repeated  by  the  student,  in  the  hearing  of  some  competent 
judge,  till  he  is  master  of  that  one  point,  before  he  pro- 
ceeds to  another.  If  more  examples,  in  the  first  instance 
are  found  necessary  to  this  purpose,  they  may  be  sought 
in  the  exercises. 

As  the  difficulty  of  the  learner  at  first,  is  to  distinguish 
the  two  chief  inflections,  and  as  the  best  method  of  doing 
this,  is  by  comparing  them  together,  the  following  classi- 
fication begins  with  cases  in  which  the  two  are  statedly 
found  in  the  same  connexion ;  and  then  extends  to  cases 
in  which  they  are  used  separately  ;  the  whole  being  mark- 
ed in  a  continued  series  of  rules,  for  convenient  reference. 


TONES  AND  INFECTIONS.  47 

BOTH  INFLECTIONS  TOGETHER. 

4]  Rule  I.  When  the  disjunctive  or  connects  words 
or  clauses,  it  has  the  rising  inflection  before,  and  the  fall- 
ing after  it. 

EXAMPLES. 

Shall  I  come  to  you  with  a  r6d-or  in  love  ? 

Art  thou  he  that  should  come, — or  look  we  for  another  ? 

The  baptism  of  John,  was  it  from  heaven, — or  of  men? 

Will  you  go — or  stay  ? 

Will  you  ride — or  walk  ? 

Will  you  go  today — or  tomorrow  ? 

Did  you  see  him — or  his  brother  ? 

Did  he  travel  for  health, — or  pleasure  ? 

Did  he  resemble  his  father,— or  his  mother  ? 

Is  this  book  yours, — or  mine  ? 

6]  Rule  II.  The  direct  question,  or  that  which  ad- 
mits the  answer  o{  yes  or  wo,  has  the  rising  inflection,  and 
the  answer  has  the  falling. 

EXAMPLES. 

Are  they  Hebrews  ?  So  am  ^I. 

Are  they  'Israelites  ?  So  am  M. 

Are  they  the  seed  of 'Abraham  ?  So  am  ^I. 

Are  they  ministers  of  Christ  ?  I  am  more.  [Paw/.] 

Did  you  not  speak  to  it  ?  My  lord,  I  did. 

Hold  you  the  watch  to-ni»ht  ?  We  do,  my  lord. 

'Arm'd,  say  you  ?  '  Arm'd,  my  lord. 

From  top  to  toe  ?  My  lord,  from  head  to  foot. 

Tht;n  saw  you  not  his  face  ?  O  yes,  my  lord. 

What,  look'd  he  frowningly  ?  A  countenance  more  in  sorrow 

than  in  anger. 

Pale?  Nay,  very  pale. 

Shak^  Hamlet, 


48  TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS. 

6]  Note  I.  This  sort  of  question  ends  with  the  ri- 
sing slide,  whether  the  answer  follows  it  or  not.  But  it 
is  not  true,  as  Mr.  Walker  has  seemed  to  suppose,  that 
every  question  beginning  with  a  verb  is  of  this  sort.  If  I 
wish  to  know  whether  my  friend  will  go  on  a  journey  with- 
in two  days,  I  say  perhaps,  "  Will  you  go  today  or  tocnor- 
row?"  He  may  answer,  "yes," — because  my  rising  in- 
flection on  both  words  implies  that  I  used  the  or  between 
them  conjunctively.  But  if  I  had  used  it  disjunctively, 
it  must  have  had  the  rising  slide  before  it,  and  the  falling 
after ;  and  then  the  question  is,  not  whether  he  will  go 
within  two  days,  but  on  which  of  the  two  ; — thus,  "  Will 
you  go  toddy — or  tomdrrow  ?"  The  whole  question,  in 
this  case,  though  it  begins  with  a  verb,  cannot  admit  the 
answer  yes  or  no,  and  of  course  cannot  end  with  the  ri« 
sing  slide. 

The  very  general  habit  of  elocution  which  gives  this 
slide  to  a  question  beginning  with  a  verb,  is  superseded 
by  the  stronger  principle  of  emphatic  con^ros^  in  Rule  1st. 
Thus  the  disciples  said  to  Christ,  "  Is  it  lawful  to  give 
tribute  to  Caesar  or  not  i*  Shall  we  give  or  shall  we  not 
give  i*"  Pilate  said  to  the  Jews,  "  Shall  I  release  unto 
you  Barabbas,  or  Jesus  ?"  Let  the  rising  slide  be  given 
on  both  names,  in  this  latter  case,  and  the  answer  might 
indeed  be  yes  or  wo,  but  the  sense  is  perverted,  by  mak- 
ing these,  two  names  for  the  same  person  ;  just  as  in  the 
following,  "  Was  this  becoming  in  Zoroaster,  or  the  Phi- 
losopher of  the  Magi  ?"  Such  an  example  may  help  to 
satisfy  those  who  doubt  the  significance  of  inflection. 

Note  2.  When  Exclamation  becomes  a  question,  it 
demands  the  rising  slide ;  as,  "  How,  you  say,  are  we  to 


TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS.  49 

accomplish  it  ?     How  accomplish  it !    Certainly  not  by- 
fearing  to  attempt  it." 

7]  Rule  III.  When  negation  is  opposed  to  «^r- 
mation,  the  former  has  the  rising,  and  the  latter  the  falling 
inflection. 

EXAMPLES. 

I  did  not  say  a  bHter  soldier, — but  an  elder. 
Study  not  for  amusement^ — but  for  improvement. 
Aim  not  to  show  knowledg-e, — but  to  acquire  it. 
He  was  esteemed,  not  for  wealthy — but  for  wisdom,. 
He  will  not  come  toddy^ — but  tomorrow. 
He  did  not  act  wisely^^^hut  unwisely. 
He  did  not  call  m^, — but  ydu. 
He  did  not  say  pride^ — but  pride. 

Negation  alone,  not  opposed  to  affirmation,  does  not 
by  any  means  always  take  the  rising  inflection,  as  Mr. 
Knowles  supposes.  The  simple  particle  no,  when  under 
the  emphasis,  with  the  intensive,  falling  slide,  is  one  of 
the  strongest  monosyllables  in  the  language.  But  when 
negative  and  affirmative  clauses  come  into  opposition,  I 
think  of  no  exception  to  the  rule  but  that  mentioned  un- 
der emphatic  succession,  Rule  IX.  Note  2. 

8]     Note  1.     This  rule,  like  the  two  preceding,  is 

founded  on  the  influence  which  antithetic  sense  has  on 

the  voice.     The  same  change  of  inflections  we  find  in 

comparison;  as, 

"  He  is  more  knave  than  fool." 

"  A  countenance  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger.'' 

So  in  the  following  case  of  simple  contrast,  where,  in  each 
couplet  of  antithetic  terms,  the  former  word  has  the  rising 
inflection. 

5 


50  TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS. 

Here  regard  to  virtue  opposes  insensibility  to  shame  ;  purity,  to 
pollution  ;  integrity,  to  injustice  ;  virtue,  to  villany  ;  resolution,  to 
rage  ;  regularity,  to  riot.  The  strugg^le  lies  between  wealth  and 
want ;  the  dig^nity,  and  degeneracy  of  reason  ;  the  f6rce,  and  the 
phrenzy  of  the  soul ;  between  well  grounded  h6pe,  and  widely  ex- 
tended despair. 

Note  2.  The  reader  should  be  apprised  here,  that 
the  falling  slide,  being  often  connected  with  strong  em- 
phasis, and  beginning  on  a  high  and  spirited  note,  is  lia- 
ble to  be  mistaken,  by  those  little  acquainted  with  the  sub- 
ject, for  the  rising  slide.  If  one  is  in  doubt  which  of  the 
two  he  has  employed,  on  a  particular  word,  let  him  re- 
peat both  together,  by  forming  a  question  according  to 
Rule  I.  with  the  disjunctive  or  ; — thus,  "  Did  I  say  go, — 
or  gd  ?"  Or  let  him  take  each  example  under  Rule  I. 
and  according  to  Rule  II.  from  an  answer  echoing  the 
first  emphatic  word,  but  changing  the  inflection  ;  thus, 
"  Will  you  g-o,— or  stay  ?  I  shall  gd.''  "  Will  you  ride, 
or  walk  ?  I  shall  ride.''  This  will  give  the  contrary,  , 
slides  on  the  same  word.  T  1 

But  as  some  may  be  unable  still  to  distinguish  the 
falling  slide,  confounding  it,  as  just  mentioned,  with  the 
rising  inflection,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  with  the  cadence  ; 
I  observe  that  the  difficulty  lies  in  two  things.  One  is, 
that  the  slide  is  not  begun  so  high,  and  the  other,  that  it 
is  not  carried  through  so  many  notes,  as  it  ought  to  be. 
I  explain  this  by  a  diagram,  thus : 


Will  you  go  to- ^ 


TONES  AND  INFLECTIONS.  51 

It  is  sufficiently  exact  to  say,  that  in  reading  this  pro- 
perly, the  syllables  without  slide  may  be  spoken  on  one 
key  or  monotone.  From  this  key  go  slides  upwards  to 
its  highest  note,  and  from  the  same  high  note  stay  slides 
downwards  to  the  key ;  and  go  does  the  same,  in  the  an- 
swer to  the  question.  In  the  second  example,  the  case 
is  entirely  similar.  But  the  difficulty  with  the  inexpert 
reader  is,  that  he  strikes  the  downward  slide,  not  above 
the  key,  but  on  it,  and  then  slides  downward,  just  as  in  a 
cadence.     The  faulty  manner  may  be  represented  thus  : 

Will  you  go  to-^^     or  to-  I  shall  go  to-/^^ 

The  other  part  of  the  difficulty  in  distinguishing  the  fall- 
ing inflection  from  the  opposite,  arises  from  its  want  of 
sufficient  extent.  Sometimes  indeed  the  voice  is  merely 
dropped  to  a  low  note,  without  any  slide  at  all.  The 
best  remedy  is,  to  take  a  sentence  with  some  emphatic 
word,  on  which  the  intensive  falling  slide  is  proper,  and 
protract  that  slide,  in  a  drawling  manner,  from  a  high 
note  to  a  low  one.  This  will  make  its  distinction  from 
the  rising  slide  very  obvious. 

Harmony  and  emphasis  make  some  exceptions  to  se- 
veral of  these  rules,  which  the  brevity  of  my  plan  com- 
pels me  to  pass  by  without  notice. 

KISING    INFLECTION. 

9]  Rule  IV.  The  pause  of  suspension,  denoting 
that  the  sense  is  unfinished,  requires  the  rising  inflection. 

This  rule  embraces  several  particulars,  more  espe- 
cially applying   to  sentences  of   the   periodic  structure, 


52  INFLECTIONS RISINOf. 

which  consist  of  several  members,  but  form  no  complete 
sense  before  the  close.  It  is  a  first  principle  of  articulate 
language,  that  in  such  a  case,  the  voice  should  be  kept 
suspended,  to  denote  continuation  of  sense. 

The  following  are  some  of  the  cases  to  which  the  rule 
applies. 

!•  Sentences  beginning  with  a  conditional  particle  or 
dause;  as, 

"  If  some  of  the  branches  be  broken  6if,  and  thou,  bein^  a  wild 
olive-tr^e,  wert  grafted  in  among  them,  and  with  them  partakest  of 
the  root  and  fatness  of  the  olive-tree  ;  boast  not  against  the  branch- 
es." "  As  face  answereth  to  face  in  water,  so  the  heart  of  man  to 
man." 

In  what  Walker  calls  the 'inverted  period,' the  last 
member,  though  not  essential  to  give  meaning  to  what 
precedes,  yet  follows  so  closely  as  not  to  allow  the  voice 
to  fall  till  it  is  pronounced. 

2.  The  case  absolute  ;  as, 

*'  His  father  djfing,  and  no  heir  being  left  except  himself,  he 
succeeded  to  the  estate."  .  "  The  question  having  been  fully  dis- 
cussed, and  all  objections  completely  refuted,  the  decision  was 
unanimous." 

3.  The  infinitive  mood  with  its  adjuncts,  used  as  a 
nominative  case  ;  as, 

"  To  smile  on  those  whom  we  should  censure,  and  to  counte- 
nance those  who  are  guilty  of  bad  actions,  is  to  be  guilty  our- 
selves." "  To  be  pure  in  heart,  to  be  pious  and  benevolent,  con- 
stitutes human  happiness." 

4.  The  vocative*  case  without  strong  emphasis,  when 
it  is  a  respectful  call  to  attention,  expresses  no  sense  cora- 

*  1  use  this  term  as  better  suiting  my  purpose  than  that  of  our 
a;rammarians, — nominative  independent . 


INFLECTIONS RISING.  53 

pleted,  and  comes  under  the  inflection  of  the  suspending 

pause  ;  as, 

Men,  brethren,  and  fathers,— hearken."  ''  Friends,  Romans, 
countrymen  ! — lend  me  your  ears.'' 

5.  The  parenthesis  commonly  requires  the  same  in- 
flection at  its  close,  while  the  rest  of  it  is  often  to  be 
spoken  in  the  monotone.  As  an  interjected  clause,  it 
suspends  the  sense  of  the  sentence,  and  for  that  reason 
only,  is  pronounced  in  a  quicker  and  lower  voice,  the  hear- 
er being  supposed  to  wait  with  some  impatience  for  the 
main  thought,  while  this  interjected  clause  is  uttered  ;  as, 
Know  ye  not,  brethren,  {for  I  speak  to  them  that  know 
the  law,)  that  the  law  hath  dominion  over  a  man  as  long 
as  he  liveth  ?"  The  most  common  exceptions  in  this 
case,  occur  in  rhetorical  dialogue,  where  narrative  and 
address  are  mingled,  and  represented  by  one  voice,  and 
where  there  is  frequent  change  of  emphasis. 

The  same  sort  of  exception  may  apply  to  the  general 
principle  of  this  rule,  whenever  one  voice  is  to  represent 
two  persons,  thus  ; 

If  a  brother  or  sister  be  naked,  and  destitute  of  daily  food,  and 
one  of  you  say  unto  them,  Depart  in  peace,  be  ye  warmed  and  fill- 
ed ;  notwithstanding^  ye  give  them  not  those  tbipg^  wiiich  are  need- 
ful to  the  body  ;  what  doth  it  profit  ? 

Here  the  sense  is  entirely  suspended  to  the  close,  and  yet 
the  clause  introduced  as  the  language  of  another,  re- 
quires the  falling  slide. 

Another  exception,  resting  on  still  stronger  ground, 
occurs  where  an  antithetic  clause  requires  the  intensive 
faUing  slide  on  some  chief  word  to  denote  the  true  mean- 
ing ;  as  in  the  following  example, — "  The  man  who  is  in 
the  daily  use  of  ardent  spirits,  if  he  does  not   become  a 

5* 


54  INFLECTIONS RISING. 

drunkard,  is  in  danger  of  losing  his  health  and  character." 
In  this  periodic  sentence,  the  meaning  is  not  formed  till 
the  close  ;  and  yet  the  falling  slide  must  be  given  at  the 
end  of  the  second  member,  or  the  sense  is  subverted  ;  for 
the  rising  slide  on  drunkard  would  imply  that  his  becom- 
ing such,  is  the  only  way  to  preserve  health  and  character. 
In  the  foregoing  rule,  together  with  the  VI.  and  IX.  is 
comprised  all  that  I  think  important  in  about  thirty  rules 
of  Walker. 

1 0]  Rule  V.  Tender  emotion  generally  inclines  the 
voice  to  the  rising  slide.* 

Grief,  compassion,  and  delicate  affection,  soften  the 
soul,  and  are  uttered  in  words,  invariably  with  correspond- 
ing qualities  of  voice.  The  passion  and  the  appropriate 
signs  by  which  it  is  expressed,  are  so  universally  conjoin- 
ed, that  they  cannot  be  separated.  It  would  shock  the 
sensibility  of  any  one  to  hear  a  mother  describe  the  death 
of  her  child,  with  the  same  intonations  which  belong  to  joy 
or  anger.  And  equally  absurd  would  it  be  for  a  general 
to  assume  the  tones  of  grief,  in  giving  his  commands  at 
the  head  of  an  army. 

Hence  the  vocative  case,  when  it  expresses  either  af- 
fection or  delicate  respect,  takes  the  rising  slide;  as, 
"  Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Mary.""  "  Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Thom- 
as." "  Sir,  I  perceive  that  thou  art  a  prophet." — "  Sirs,  what 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?" 

This  inflection  prevails  in  the  reverential  language  of  prayer. 

The  same  slide  prevails  in  pathetic  poetry.     Take  an 

example  from  Milton's  lamentation  for  the  loss  of  sight. 
• — — ■  '  ■      >  ■      ■  ■'  » 

*  In  the  firgt  edition,  this  rule  was  expressed  too  strongly  to  coincide  with  the 
authors  meaning,  as  explained  in  other  parts  of  the  work.  It  is  corrctpted  here,  at 
the  suggestion  of  a  friend. 


INFLECTIONS RISING, 


Thus  with  the  year, 
Seasons  return  ;  but  not  to  me  returns 
Day,  or  the  sweet  approach  of  ev'n  or  m6rn, 
Or  sight  of  vernal  bloom,  or  summer's  rose. 
Or  flocks,  or  h^rds,  or  human  face  divine  ; 
But  cloud  instead,  and  ever  during  dark 
Surround  me— 

Another  example  may  be  seen  in  the  beautiful  little 
poem  of  Cowper,  on  the  receipt  of  his  mother's  picture  : 

My  mother !  when  I  learn'd  that  thou  wast  dead, 
Say,  wast  thou  conscious  of  the  tears  I  sh^d  ? 
Hover'd  thy  spirit  o'er  thy  sorrowing  son, 
Wretch  even  then,  life's  journey  just  begun  ? 
I  hear'd  the  bell  toll'd  on  thy  burial  day, 
I  saw  the  hearse,  that  bore  thee  slow  away, 
And,  turning  from  my  nurs'ry  window,  drew 
A  long,  long  sigh,  and  wept  a  last  adieu. 

In  both  these  examples  the  voice  preserves  the  rising 
slide,  till,  in  the  former  we  come  to  the  last  member,  be- 
ginning with  the  disjunctive  but^ — where  it  takes  the  fall- 
ing slide  on  cloud  and  dark.  In  the  latter  the  slide  does 
not  change  till  the  cadence  requires  it,  on  the  last  word, 
adiev. 

11]  Rule  VI.  The  rising  slide  is  commonly  used 
at  the  last  pause  but  one  in  a  sentence.  The  reason  is, 
that  the  ear  expects  the  voice  to  fall  when  the  sense  is 
finished ;  and  therefore  it  should  rise  for  the  sake  of  vari- 
ety and  harmony,  on  the  pause  that  precedes  the  cadence. 
—Ex. 

"  The  minor  longs  to  be  at  age,  then  to  be  a  man  of  business, 
then  to  make  up  an  estate,  then  to  arrive  at  honors,  then  to  retire." 
"  Our  lives,  (says  Seneca,)  are  spent  either  in  doing  nothing  at  all, 
or  in  doing  nothing  to  the  purpose,  or  in  doing  nothing  that  we 
oi^ght  to  do." 


•5  INFLECTIONS FALLING, 


FALLING   INFLECTION. 

The  general  principle  suggested  under  Rule  V,  is  to 
be  borne  in  raind  here.  In  the  various  classes  of  exam- 
ples under  the  falling  inflection,  the  reader  will  perceive 
the  prevailing  characteristic  of  decision  and  force.  So 
instinctively  does  bold  and  strong  passion  express  itself 
by  this  turn  of  voice,  that,  just  so  far  as  the  falling  slide 
becomes  intensive,  it  denotes  emphatic  force.  The  VIII. 
IX.  and  X.  rules  will  illustrate  this  remark. 

12]  Rule  VII.  The  indirect  question^  or  that  which 
is  not  answered  by  yes  or  no,  has  the  falling  inflection ; 
and  its  answer  has  the  same. 

This  sort  of  question  begins  with  interrogative  pronouns 
and  adverbs.  Thus  Cicero  bears  down  his  adversary 
by  the  combined  force  of  interrogation  and  emphatic  se- 
ries. 

This  is  an  open,  honourable  challenge  to  you.  Why  are  you 
silent  ?  Why  do  you  prevaricate  ?  I  insist  upon  this  point ;  I 
urge  you  to  it ;  press  it ;  require  it ;  nay,  I  demand  it  of  you. 

So  in  his  oration  for  Ligarius  ; 

What,  Tubero,  did  that  naked  sword  of  yours  mean,  in  the  bat- 
tle of  Pharsalia?  At  whose  breast  was  its  point  aimed  ?  What 
was  the  meaning  of  your  arms,  your  spirit,  your  eyes,  your  hands^ 
your  ardour  of  soul  ? 

In  conversation  there  are  a  few  cases  where  the  indi- 
jpect  question  has  the  rising  slide  ;  as  when  one  partially 
hears  some  remark,  and  familiarly  asks  ;   What  is  that  ? 
Who  is  that? 

The  answer  to  the  indirect  question,  according  to  the 


INFLECTIONS FALLING.  57 

general  rule,  has  the  falling  slide  ;  though  at  the  expense 
of  harmony ;  as, 

Who  say  the  people  that  I  am  ?  They  answering  said^  John  the 
Baptist  ;  but  some  say^  Ellas  ;  and  others  say  that  one  of  the  old 
prophets  is  risen  again. —  Where  is  boasting  then  7  It  is  excluded. — 
Whojirst  sediic^d  them  to  that  foul  revolt  ?    The  infernal  serpent. 

The  want  of  distinction  in  elementary  books,  between 
that  sort  of  question  which  turns  the  voice  upward,  and 
that  which  turns  it  downward,  must  have  been  felt  by  eve- 
ry teacher  even  of  children.  This  distinction  is  scarcely 
noticed  by  the  ancients,  Augustin,  in  remarking  on  the 
false  sense  sometimes  given  to  a  passage  of  Scripture  by 
false  pronunciation,  says,  The  ancients  called  that  ques- 
tion interrogation^  which  is  answered  by  yes  or  no  ;  and 
that  percontation,  which  admits  of  other  answers.*  Quinc- 
tilian,  however,  says  the  two  terras  were  used  indiffer- 
ently. 

13]  Rule  VIII.  The  language  of  authority  and  of 
surprise,  is  commonly  uttered  with  the  falling  inflection. 
Bold  and  strong  passion  so  much  inclines  the  voice  to  this 
slide,  that  in  most  of  the  cases  hereafter  to  be  specified, 
emphatic  force  is  denoted  by  it. 

1 .  The  imperative  mood,  as  used  to  express  the  com- 
mands of  a  superior,  denotes  that  energy  of  thought  which 
usually  requires  the  falling  slide.  Thus  Milton  supposes 
Gabriel  to  speak,  at  the  head  of  his  radiant  files : 

*  He  ^ives  an  example  from  Paul,  with  the  prpnunciation  which 
he  proposes  : — ''  post  percontationem,  Quis  accusabit  adrersus  elec- 
tos  Dei  ?  illud  quod  sequitur  sono  interi'ogantis  enuntietur,  Deus 
qui  jiistijicat  ?  ut  tacite  respondeatur,  JVo^i.  Et  item  percontemur, 
Quis  est  qui  condemnat  ?  rursus  interrogemus,  Christus  Jesus,  qui 
mortuus  est  ?  etc.  ut  ubique  tacite  respondeatur,  Jfon.'''* 

De  Doctrina  Christiana,  Lib,  III,  Cap,  3. 


58  INFLECTIONS PALLING. 

Uzziel !  half  these  draw  off  and  coast  the  south, 

With  strictest  watch  ;  these  other,  wheel  the  north.— 

— Ithuriel  and  Zephon  !  with  wingfed  speed 

Search  throug^h  this  garden  ;  leave  unsearched  no  nook. 

This  evening  from  the  sun's  decline  arrivM 

Who  tells  of  some  infernal  spirit  seen, 

Hitherward  bent: — 

Such  where  ye  find,  seize  fast,  and  hither  bring. 

Thus  in  the  battle  of  Rokeby,  young  Redmond  ad- 
dressed his  soldiers ; 

^Up,  comrades  !  up  ! — in  Rokeby's  halls 
Ne'er  be  it  said  our  courage  falls. 

No  language  surpasses  the  English,  in  the  spirit  and 
vivacity  of  its  imperative  mode,  and  vocative  case.  These 
often  are  found  together  in  the  same  address;  and  when 
combined  with  emphasis,  separately  or  united,  they  have 
the  falling  slide,  and  great  strength. 

2.  Denunciation  and  reprehension,  on  the  same  princi- 
ple, commonly  require  the  falling  inflection  ;  as, 

Wo  unto  you,  Pharisees  !  for  ye  love  the  uppermost  seats  in  the 
synagogues.  Wo  unto  you,  lawyers  !  for  ye  have  taken  away  the 
key  of  knowledge.  But  God  said  unto  him,  thou  fool  I — this  night 
thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  thee.  But  Jesus  said,  Why  tempt  ye 
me,  ye  hypocrites !  Paul  said  to  Elymas,  O  full  of  all  subtlety, 
and  all  mischief!  Thou  child  of  the  Devil, — thou  enemy  of  all 
righteousness ! 

In  the  beginning  of  Shakspeare's  Julius  Caesar,  Marul- 
lus,  a  patriotic  Roman,  finding  in  the  streets  some  peas- 
ants, who  were  keeping  holiday,  for  Caesar's  triumph  over 
the  liberties  of  his  country,  accosted  them  in  this  indig- 
nant strain  ; 

Hence  !— home,  you  idle  creatures,  get  you  home. 

You  blocks,  you  stones  !  You  worse  than  senseless  things  f 


INFLECTIONS FALLING.  59 

This  would  be  tame  indeed,  should  we   place  the  un- 
emphatic,  rising  slide  on  these  terms  of  reproach,  thus  : 
You  blocks,  you  stones,  you  worse  than  senseless  things  ! 

The  strong  reprehension  of  our  Saviour,  addressed  to 
the  tempter,  would  lose  much  of  its  meaning,  if  uttered 
with  the  gentle,  rising  slide,  thus ;  Get  thee  behind  me,  Sa- 
tan, But  it  becomes  very  significant,  with  the  emphatic 
downward  inflection  ;   Get  thee  behind  we, — Satan. 

3.  Exclamation,  when  it  does  not  express  tender 
emotion,  nor  ask  a  question,  inclines  to  adopt  the  falling 
slide. 

Terror  expresses  itself  in  this  way.  Thus  the  aj)- 
pearance  of  the  ghost  in  Hamlet  produces  the  exclama*- 
tion  : 

^Angels  !  and  ministers  of  grace, — defend  us.* 

Exclamation,  denoting  surprise,  or  reverence,  or  dis- 
tress,— or  a  combination  of  these  different  emotions,  gen- 
erally adopts  the  falling  slide,  modified  indeed  by  the  de- 
gree of  emotion.  For  this  reason  I  suppose  that  Mary, 
weeping  at  the  sepulchre,  when  she  perceived  that  the 
person  whom  she  had  mistaken  for  the  gardener,  was  the 
risen  Saviour  himself,  exclaimed  with  the  tone  of  rever- 
ence and  surprise, — Rabbdni  1  And  the  same  inflection 
probably  was  used  by  the  leprous  men  when  they  cried 
Jhus,  Master  !  have  mercy  on  us  ;  instead  of  the  collo- 


*  The  city  watch  is  startled,  not  so  much  by  the  words  of  dis- 
tress that  echo  through  the  stillness  of  midnight,  as  by  the  tones 
that  denote  the  reality  of  that  distress  ; — "  help ! — murder  ! — helpl" 
The  man  whose  own  house  is  in  flames,  cries,  "fire  !— fire  !"  it  is 
only  from  the  truant  boy  in  the  streets  that  we  hear  the  careless 
exclamation, "  fire,  fire." 


6d  INFLECTIONS FALLING. 

quial  tone  Jesus,  Master,  which  is  commonly  used  in 
reading  the  passage,  and  which  expresses  nothing  of  the 
distress  and  earnestness  which  prompted  this  cry.  These 
examples  are  distinguished  from  the  vocative  case,  when 
it  merely  calls  to  attention,  or  denotes  affection. 

14]  Rule  IX.  Emphatic  succession  of  particiilafs 
requires  the  falling  slide.*  The  reason  is,  that  a  distinc- 
tive utterance  is  necessary  to  fix  the  attention  on  each 
particular.  The  figure  asyndeton,  or  omission  of  copula- 
tives, especially  when  it  respects  clauses,  and  not  single 
words,  belongs  to  this  class  ;  as, 

Go  and  t6ll  John  what  things  ye  have  seen  and  heard  ; — the 
\jiiind  see,  the  lame  walk,  the  leapers  are  cleansed,  the  deaf  hear, 
the  dead  are  raised,  to  the  poor  the  gospel  is  preached.- Charity 
suffereth  long,  and  is  kind  ;  charity  envieth  not ;  charity  vaunteth 
not  itself;  is  not  puffed  up;  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly: 
seeketh  not  her  own  ;  is  not  easily  provoked  ;  thinketh  no  evil. — 
Thrice  was  I  beaten  with  rods  ;  once  was  I  stoned  ;  thrice  1  suf- 
ered  shipwreck  ;  a  night  and  a  day  have  I  been  in  the  deep. 

In  each  of  these  examples,  all  the  pauses  except  the 
last  but  one,  (for  the  sake  of  harmony,)  require  the  down- 
ward slide.  The  polysyndeton,  requiring  a  still  more  de- 
liberate pronunciation,  adopts  the  same  slide ;  as, 

Tbou  Shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God,  with  all  thy  heart,  and 
^with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  and  with  all  thy  mind, 
and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself. 

Note   1.     When  the  principle  of  emphatic  series  in- 

*  The  loose  sentence^  though  it  does  not  strictly  belong  to  this 
rtile,  commonly  coincides  with  it;  because  in  the  appended  mem- 
ber or  members,  marked  by  the  semicolon  or  colon,  a  complete 
sense,  at  each  of  these  pauses,  is  so  far  expressed  as  generally  t© 
admit  the  falling  slide. 


INFLECTIONS-^PALLING.  61 

terferes  with  that  of  the  suspending  slide,  one  or  the  oth- 
er prevails,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  case.  When 
the  structure  is  hypothetical,  and  yet  the  sense  is  such, 
and  so  far  formed  as  to  admit  emphasis,  the  falling  slide 
prevails,  thus : 

And  though  I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  understand  all 
mysteries,  and  all  knowledge  ;  and  though  I  have  all  faith,  so 
that  I  could  remove  mountains,  and  have  not  charity,  I  am  no- 
thing. 

But  when  the  series  begins  a  sentence,  and  each  particu- 
lar hangs  on  something  still  to  come,  for  its  sense,  there 
is  so  little  emphasis  that  the  rising  slide,  denoting  suspen- 
sion, is  required  ;  thus, — 

The  pains  of  getting,  the  fear  of  losing,  and  the  inability  of  en- 
joying his  wealth,  have  made  the  miser  a  mark  of  satire,  in  all 
ages. 

Note  2.  The  principle  of  emphatic  series,  may  form 
an  exception  to  Rule  III.  as, 

We  are  troubled  on  every  side,  yet  not  distressed  ;  perplexed^ 
but  not  in  despair  ;  persecuted,  but  not  forsaken  ;  cast  down,  but 
not  destroyed.* 

Note  3.  Emphatic  succession  of  particulars  grows 
intensive  as  it  goes  on  ;  that  is,  on  each  succeeding  em- 
phatic word,  the  slide  has  more  stress,  and  a  higher  note, 
than  on  the  preceding ;  thus, — 


*  All  Walker's  rules  of  inflection  as  to  a  series  of  single  words^ 
"when  unemphatic,  are  in  my  opinion,  worse  than  useless.  No  ruk 
of  harmonic  inflection,  that  is  independent  of  sentiment,  can  be 
established  without  too  much  risk  of  an  artificial  habit,  unless  it  be 
this  one,  that  the  voice  should  rise  at  the  last  pause  before  the  ca- 
dence ;  and  even  this  may  be  superseded  by  emphasis. 

6 


62  INFLECTIONS FALLING. 


.>o.  X^Q. 


I  tell  you,  though  X^^'^    though  all  the^^    though  an  an- 


gel  from        X$  should  declare  the  truth  of  it,  I  could  not  helieve 
it. 

The  rising  slide,  on  the  contrary,  as  it  occurs  in 
an  emphatic  series  of  direct  questions,  rises  higher  on 
each  particular,  as  it  proceeds. 

16]  Rule  X.  Emphatic  repe^i/ion  requires  the  fall- 
ing slide. 

Whatever  inflection  is  given  to  a  word,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, when  that  word  is  repeated  with  stress,  it  demands 
the  falling  slide.  Thus  in  Julius  C«sar,  Cassius  says  ; 
You  wrong  me  every  way,  you  wrong  me,  Brutus. 

The  word  wrong  is  slightly  emphatic,  with  the  falling 
slide,  in  the  first  clause ;  but  in  the  second,  it  requires  a 
double  or  triple  force  of  voice,  with  the  same  slide  on  a 
higher  note,  to  express  the  meaning  strongly.  But  the 
principle  of  this  rule  is  more  apparent  still,  when  the  re- 
peated word  changes  its  inflection.  Thus  I  ask  one  at  a 
distance.  Are  you  going  to  Boston  ?  If  he  tells  me  that 
he  did  not  hear  my  question,  I  repeat  it  with  the  other 
slide,  Are  you  going  to  Bdsion  ?* 


•  In  colloquial  language,  the  point  I  am  illustrating  is  quite 
familiar  to  every  ear.  The  teacher  calls  a  pupil  by  name  in  the 
rising  inflection,  and  not  being  heard,  repeats  the  call  in  the  fall- 
ing. The  answer  to  such  a  call,  if  it  is  a  mere  response,  is  "  Sir  /" 
—if  it  expresses  doubt,  it  is  *'  Sir."*^  A  question  that  is  not  under- 
stood is  repeated  with  a  louder  voice  and  a  change  of  slide  :  ""^  Is 
this  your  h6ok  ?  Is  this  your  book  P"*  Little  children  with  their 
first  elements  of  speech,  make  this  distinction  perfectly. 


INFLECTIONS FALLING.  63 


I  cannot  forbear  to  say  here,  though  the  remark  be- 
longs to  style  more  than  to  delivery,  that  while  it  is  the 
province  of  dulness  to  repeat  the  same  thoughts  or  words, 
from  mere  carelessness  ;  there  is  scarcely  a  more  vivid 
figure  of  rhetoric  than  repetition,  when  it  springs  from 
genius  and  emotion.  But  as  the  finest  strains  of  music 
derive  increase  of  spirit  and  effect  from  repetition,  so  in 
delivery,  increase  of  emotion,  demands  a  correspondent 
stress  and  inflection  of  voice.  For  this  reason,  the  com- 
mon method  of  reading  our  Saviour's  parable  of  the  wise 
and  the  foolish  builder,  with  the  rising  slide  on  both  parts, 
is  much  less  impressive  than  that  which  adopts  the  falling 
slide  with  increase  of  stress  on  the  series  of  paj*ticulars  as 
repeated. 

Whosoever  heareth  these  saying^s  of  mine,  and  doeth  them,  I 
will  liken  him  unto  a  wise  man  which  built  his  house  upon  a  rock  : 
and  the  rains  descended,  and  the  floods  came,  and  the  winds  blew, 
and  beat  upon  that  house,  and  it  fell  not, — for  it  was  founded  upoa 
a  rock.  And  every  one  that  heareth  these  saying^s  of  mine,  and 
doeth  them  not,  shall  be  likened  unto  a  foolish  man,  that  built  his 
house  upon  the  sand  ;  and  the  rain  descended,  and  the  floods  came, 
and  the  winds  blew,  and  beat  upon  that  house,  and  it  fell ; — and 
great  was  the  fall  of  it. 

16]  Rule  XI.  The  final  pause  requires  the  falling 
slide. 

That  dropping  of  the  voice  which  denotes  the  sense 
to  be  finished,  is  so  commonly  expected  by  the  ear,  that 
the  worst  readers  make  a  cadence  of  some  sort,  at  the 
close  of  a  sentence.  In  respect  to  this,  some  general 
faults  may  be  guarded  against,  though  it  is  not  possible  to 
tell  in  absolute  terms  what  a  good  cadence  is ;  because, 
in  different  circumstances,  it  is  modified  by  different  pria- 


64  INFLECTIONS RISING. 

ciples  of  elocution.     The  most  common  fault  in  the  ca- 
dence of  bad  speakers,  consists  in  dropping  the  voice  too 
uniformly  to  the  same  note.     The  next  consists  in  drop- 
ping it  too  much.     The  next,  in  dropping  it  too  far  from 
the  end  of  the  sentence,  or  beginning  the  cadence  too 
soon  ;  and  another  still  consists  in  that  feeble  and  indis- 
tinct manner  of  closing  sentences,  which  is  common  to 
men  unskilled  in  managing  the  voice.     We  should  take 
care  also  to  mark  the  difference  between  that  downward 
turn  of  the  voice  which  occurs  at  the  falling  slide  in  the 
middle  of  a  sentence,  and  that  which  occurs  at  the  close. 
The  latter  is  made  on  a  lower  note,  and  if  emphasis  is 
absent,  with  less  spirit  than   the    former  ;    As,  "  This 
heavenly  benefactor  claims,  not  the  homage  of  our  lips,  but 
of  our  hearts  ;  and  who  can  doubt  that  he  is  entitled  to  the 
homage  of  our  hedrts"     Here  the  word  hearts  has  the 
same  slide  in  the  middle  of  the  sentence  as  at  the  close. 
Though  it  has  a  much  lower  note  in  the  latter  case  than 
in  the  former^ 

It  must  be  observed  too  that  the  final  pause  does  not 
always  require  a  cadence.  When  the  strong  emphasis 
with  the  falling  slide  comes  near  the  end  of  a  sentence, 
it  turns  the  voice  upward  at  the  close ;  as,  "  If  we  have 
no  regard  to  our  own  character,  we  ought  to  have  some 
regard  to  the  character  of  others,'*^  "  You  were  paid  to 
jf^ght  against  Alexander,  not  to  rail  at  him."  This  is  a 
departure  from  a  general  rule  of  elocution  ;  but  it  is  only 
one  case  among  many,  in  which  emphasis  asserts  its  su- 
premacy over  any  other  principle  that  interferes  with  its 
claims.  Indeed,  any  one  who  has  given  but  little  attention 
to  this  point,  would  be  surprised  to  observe  accurately, 


CIRCUMFLEX,  65 


how  often  sentences  are  closed,  in  conversation,  without 
any  proper  cadence ;  the  voice  being  carried  to  a  high 
note,  on  the  last  word,  sometimes  with  the  falling,  and 
sometimes  with  the  rising  slide. 

CIRCUMFLEX. 

17]  Rule.  XII.  The  circumflex  occurs  chiefly 
where  the  language  is  either  hypothetical  or  ironical. 

The  most  common  use  of  it  is  to  express  indefinitely 
or  conditionally  some  idea  that  is  contrasted  with  another 
idea  expressed  or  understood,  to  which  the  falling  slide 
belongs  ;  thus ; — Hume  said  he  would  go  twenty  miles,  to 
hear  Whitejidd  preach.  The  contrast  suggested  by  the 
circumflex  here  is ;  though  he  would  take  no  pains  to 
hear  a  cdmmon  preacher.  You  ask  a  physician  concern- 
ing your  friend  who  is  dangerously  sick,  and  receive  this 
reply. — He  is  better.  The  circumflex  denotes  only  a 
partial,  doubtful  amendment,  and  implies  But  he  is  still 
dangerously  sick.  The  same  turn  of  voice  occurs  in  the 
following  example,  on  the  word  importunity. 

Though  he  will  not  rise  and  give  him,  because  he  is  h'la  friend, 
yet  because  of  his  importunity  he  will  rise  and  give  him.  as  many 
as  he  needeth. 

This  circumflex,  when  indistinct,  coincides  nearly 
with  the  rising  slide  ;  when  distinct,  it  denotes  qualijied 
affirmation  instead  of  that  which  is  positive  as  marked  by 
the  falling-  slide.  This  hint  suggests  a  much  more  perfect 
rule  than  that  of  Walker,  by  which  to  aseerttiin  the  proper 
slide  under  the  emphasis.  See  Emphaiic  Inflection,  pp. 
80—88. 

6* 


CHAP.  IV, 


ACCENT. 


18]  Accent  is  a  stress  laid  on  particular  syllables, 
to  promote  harmony  and  distinctness  of  articulation.  The 
syllable  on  which  accent  shall  be  placed,  is  determined 
by  custom ;  and  that  without  any  regard  to  the  meaning 
of  words,  except  in  these  few  cases. 

First,  where  the  same  word  in  form,  has  a  different 
sense,  according  to  the  seat  of  the  accent.  This  may  be 
the  case  while  the  word  continues  to  be  the  same  part  of 
speech,  as  desert,  (a  wilderness)  desert',  {merit) — to 
conjure,  {to  use  magic)  to  conjure',  {to  entreat).  Or 
the  accent  may  distinguish  between  the  same  word  used 
as  a  noun  or  an  ajective  ;  as  com'pact,  {an  agreement) 
compact',  {close)  min'ute,  (of  time)  minute',  {small). 
Or  it  may  distinguish  the  noun  from  the  verb,  thus : 


AVstract 

to  abstract' 

ex'port 

to  export' 

com'pound 

to  compound' 

ex'tract 

to  extract' 

com'press 

to  compress' 

im'port 

to  import' 

con'cert 

to  concert' 

in'cense 

to  incense' 

con'duct 

to  conduct' 

in'sult 

to  insult' 

con^fine 

to  confine' 

oVject 

to  object' 

con'tract 

to  contract' 

pres'ent 

to  present' 

con'trast 

to  contrast' 

proj'ect 

to  project' 

con'vert 

to  convert' 

reb'el 

to  rebel' 

con'vict 

to  convict' 

tor'ment 

to  tormenf 

di'gest 

to  digest' 

trans'port 

to  transport' 

It 


ACCENT.  67 


The  province  of  emphasis  is  so  much  more  important 
than  that  of  accent  that  the  customary  seat  of  the  latter  is 
transposed  in  any  case  where  the  claims  of  emphasis  re- 
quire it.  This  takes  place  chiefly  in  words  which  have 
a  partial  sameness  in  form,  but  are  contrasted  in  sense. 

EXAMPLES. 

He  must  increase,  but  I  must  decrease. 

This  corrw/ftible  must  put  on  incorruption  ;  and  this  mortal 
must  put  on  immortality. 

What  fellowship  hath  ri^^/eousness  with  wnrig-hteousness  ? 

Consider  well  what  you  have  d6ne^  and  what  you  have  left 
itndone. 

He  that(wcended  is  the  same  as  he  that  descended. 

The  difference  in  this  case,  is  no  less  than  betwixt  decency  and 
indecency  ;  betwixt  reZlg^ion  and  irrelig^ion. 

In  the  JWi/ableness  or  linsuitableness,  the  pro/?drtion  or  dispro- 
portion of  the  affection  to  the  object  which  excites  it,  consists  the 
pro/?riety  or  impropriety  of  the  consequent  action.* 

With  those  considerations  respecting  accent  which 
belong  especially  to  the  grammarian,  we  have  no  con- 
cern. As  connected  whh  articulation,  the  influence  of 
accent  was  briefly  discussed,  [2]  page  28.  As  connect- 
ed with  inflection^,  an  additional  remark  seems  necessary 
here.  The  accented  syllable  of  a  word  is  always  uttered 
with  a  LOUDER  note  than  the  rest.  When  the  syllable  has 
the  rising  inflection,  the  slide  continues  upward  till  the 
word  is  finished  ;  so  that  when  several  syllables  of  a  word 
follow  the  accent,  they  rise  to  a  higher  note  than  that 
which  is  accented ;  and  when  the  accented  syllable  is  the 

*  In  this  last  example,  the  latter  accented  word  in  each  of  the 
couplets,  perhaps  would  be  more  exactly  marked  with  the  circum- 
flex ;  the  same  case  occurs  often,  as  in  p.  64,  last  paragraph. 


69  ACCENT. 


last  in  a  word,  it  is  also  the  highest.  But  when  the  ac- 
cented syllable  has  the  falling  slide,  it  is  always  struck 
with  a  higher  note  than  any  other  syllable  in  that  word. 
The  reader  may  easily  understand  this  remark  by  turning 
to  the  example,  page  50,  at  the  bottom  ;  and  then  framing 
for  himself  other  examples,  with  an  accent  in  the  middle 
of  a  long  word  ;  as. 

Did  he  dare  to  propose  such  interrogatories  ? 
Here  the  slide  which  begins  on  rog  continues  to  rise  on 
the  three  following  syllables ;  whereas  in  the  question, 
Will  you  go  to  day  ?  the  same  slide  terminates  with  the 
syllable  on  which  it  begins.  But  no  example  can  be 
framed  with  the  falling  inflection,  (the  cadence  only  ex- 
cepted,) in  which  the  accented  syllable,  where  the  slide 
begins,  is  not  higher  than  any  other  syllable  before  or  af- 
ter it.*  This  remark  furnishes  another  opportunity  ta 
correct  the  very  common  mistake  of  those  who  think  the 
falling  inflection  to  consist  in  a  sudden  dropping  of  the 
voice,  whereas  it  consists  in  ^Zirfin^  it  down,  and  that  from 
a  high  note,  whenever  there  is  intensive  stress. 

*  I  dwell  a  little  on  the  above  diHtinction,  because,  in  my  opin- 
ix>n  Walker,  and  Ewing  after  him,  have  stated  it  incorrectly. 


CHAR  V 


EMPHASIS. 


One  elementary  principle  which  has  been  more  than 
©nee  suggested  already,  respecting  management  of  the 
voice,  deserves  to  be  repeated  here,  because  of  its  direct 
bearing  on  the  subject  of  this  chapter  and  the  next. 

No  useful  purpose  can  be  answered  by  attempting  to 
establish  any  system  of  inflections  in  reading  and  speak- 
ing, except  so  far  as  these  inflections  do  actually  accom- 
pany, in  good  speakers,  the  spontaneous  expression  of 
sentiment  and  emotion.  We  say  without  any  scruple, 
that  certain  feelings  of  the  speaker  are  commonly  ex- 
pressed with  certain  modifications  of  voice.  These  mod- 
ifications we  can  describe  in  a  manner  not  difiicult  to  be 
understood.  But  here  a  serious  obstacle  meets  us.  The 
pupil  is  told  how  emotion  speaks  in  a  given  case,  and  then 
he  attempts  to  do  the  same  thing  without  emotion.  But 
great  as  this  difliculty  is,  it  is  not  peculiar  to  any  one 
mode  of  instruction ;  it  attends  every  system  of  elocution 
that  can  be  devised.  Take,  for  example,  the  standing 
canon,  be  natural,  which  for  ages  has  been  thought  the 
only  adequate  direction  in  delivery.  This  maxim  is  just; 
it  is  simple  ;  it  is  easily  repeated  by  a  teacher  ; — but  who 
does  not  know  that  it  has  been  repeated  a  thousand  times 
without  any  practical  advantage  ?  What  is  it  to  he  natu- 
ral^   It  is  so  to  speak  that  the  modifications  of  voice 


70  EMPHASIS. 


shall  be  such  as  feeling  demands.  But  here  is  the  same 
obstacle  as  before  ; — the  pupil  attempts  to  be  natural  in 
speaking,  and  fails,  just  because  he  attempts  to  do  what 
feeling  demands,  without  feeling.  This  intrinsic  difficul- 
ty accompanies  every  theory  on  this  subject,  even  when 
no  perverted  habits  of  voice  are  to  be  encountered,  and 
much  more  where  such  habits  exist.  The  only  remedy 
to  be  relied  on  is  that  which  I  have  briefly  urged  in  an- 
other place.  The  Teacher,  who  would  give  his  pupils  a 
just  emphasis  and  modulation,  must  unceasingly  impress 
on  them  the  importance  of  entering  with  feeling  into  the 
sentiments  which  they  are  to  utter. 

Emphasis  is  governed  by  the  laws  of  sentiment,  be- 
ing inseparably  associated  with  thought  and  emotion.  It 
is  the  most  important  principle,  by  which  elocution  is  re- 
lated to  the  operations  of  mind.  Hence  when  it  stands 
opposed  to  the  claims  of  custom  or  of  harmony,  these  al- 
ways give  way  to  its  supremacy.  The  accent  which  cus- 
tom attaches  to  a  word,  emphasis  may  supersede  ;  as  we 
have  seen  under  the  foregoing  article.  Custom  requires 
a  cadence  at  the  final  pause,  but  emphasis  often  turns  the 
voice  upward  at  the  end  of  a  sentence  ;  as. 

You  were  paid  to  fight  against  Alexander,  not  to  rail  at  him. 

See  [16]  p.  64.  Harmony  requires  the  voice  to  rise  at  the 
pause  before  the  cadence;  whereas  emphasis  sometimes 
prescribes  the  falling  slide  at  this  pause,  to  enforce  the 
sense ;  as. 

Better  to  reig^n  in  hell^  than  serve  in  heaven. 

Now  I  presume  that  every  one,  who  is  at  all  accus- 
tomed to  accurate  observation  on  this  subject,  must  be 


EMPHATIC  STRESS.  71 


sensible  how  very  little  this  grand  principle  is  regarded  in 
forming  our  earliest  habits  of  elocution  ;  and  therefore 
how  hopeless  are  all  efforts  to  correct  what  is  wrong  in 
these  habits,  without  a  just  knowledge  of  emphasis. 

What  then  is  emphasis  ?  Without  staying  to  assign 
reasons  why  I  am  dissatisfied  with  definitions  heretofore 
given,  by  respectable  writers,  the  following  is  offered  as 
more  complete,  in  my  opinion,  than  others  which  I  have 
seen.  Emphasis  is  a  distinctive  utterance  of  words,  which 
are  especially  significant,  with  such  a  degree  and  kind  of 
stress,  as  conveys  their  meaning  in  the  best  manner. 

According  to  this  definition,  1  would  include  the  whole 
subject  under  emphatic  stress  and  emphatic  inflection. 

19]  Sect.  1. — Emphatic  Stress. 

This  consists  chiefly  in  the  loudness  of  the  note,  but 
includes  also  the  time  in  which  important  words  are  utter- 
ed. Both  these  are  commonly  united  ;  but  the  latter, 
since  it  will  require  some  notice  when  I  come  to  speak  of 
rate  and  emphatic  pause,  may  be  dismissed  here,  as  to  its 
separate  consideration,  with  a  single  remark.  A  good 
reader  or  speaker,  when  he  utters  a  word  on  which  the 
meaning  of  a  sentence  is  suspended,  spontaneously  dwells 
on' that  word,  or  gives  it  more  time,  according  to  the  in- 
tensity of  its  meaning.  The  significance  and  weight 
which  he  thus  attaches  to  words  that  are  important,  is  a 
very  different  thing  from  the  abrupt  and  jerking  empha- 
sis, which  is  often  witnessed  in  a  bad  delivery.  Bearing 
this  fact  in  mind,  we  may  proceed  to  consider,  more  par- 
ticularly, why  emphatic  stress  belongs  to  some  words,  and 
not  to  others. 


t2  EMPHATIC    STRESS. 

The  indefinite  description  which  was  formerly  given 
of  emphasis,  as  *  a  stress  laid  on  one  or  more  words  to 
distinguish  them  from  others,'  was  attended  with  a  corres- 
pondent confusion  in  practice.  In  some  books  of  elocu- 
tion, more  than  half  the  words  were  printed  in  Italics,  and 
regarded  as  equally  emphatical.  To  remedy  so  great  a 
fault,  Walker  proposed  his  threefold  classification  of  words, 
*  as  pronounced  with  emphatic  force,  accented  force,  or 
unaccented  force.'  The  first  he  considered  as  belonging 
to  words  of  peculiar  significance  ;  the  second  to  nouns, 
verbs,  &c. — the  third  to  connectives  and  particles.  But 
these  distinctions,  after  all,  leave  a  very  plain  subject  in 
obscurity  ;  for  it  is  enough  to  say  that  emphatic  force  is 
to  be  governed  solely  by  sense ;  and  that  the  word,  to 
whatever  part  of  speech  it  belongs,  which  renders  but  lit- 
tle aid  in  forming  the  sense,  should  be  passed  over  with 
but  little  stress  of  voice.  It  is  indeed  generally  true  that 
a  subordinate  rank  belongs  to  particles,  and  to  all  those 
words  which  merely  express  some  circumstance  of  a 
tfaoQgbt.  And  when  a  word  of  this  sort  is  raised  above 
its  relative  importance,  by  an  undue  stress  in  pronuncia- 
tion, we  perceive  a  violence  done  to  other  words  of  more 
significance  ;  and  we  hardly  admit  even  the  metrical  ac- 
cent of  poetry  to  be  any  excuse  for  so  obvious  an  offence 
tgainst  propriety.  One  example  of  this  sort  we  have  in 
the  common  manner  of  reading  this  couplet  of  Watts— 

Show  pity,  Lord,  O  Lord,  forgive, 
L.et  a  repenting  rebel  live. 

This  stress  upon  a,  in  the  second  line,  shows  the  absence 
of  just  discrimination  in  the  reader.^ 

*  I  beg  leave  to  ask  here,  if  it  shows  want  of  taste  in  the  reader, 
in  such  a  case,  to  sacrifice  the  sense  to  the  syllabic  accent  of  po- 


EMPHATIC   STRESS.  73 

But  to  show  that  emphasis  attaches  itself  not  to  the 
part  of  speech,  but  to  the  meaning  of  a  word,  let  one  of 
these  little  words  become  important  in  sense,  and  then  it 
demands  a  correspondent  stress  of  voice. 

We  have  an  example  in  the  two  following  sentences, 
ending  with  the  particle  so.  In  one  it  is  used  incidentally, 
and  is  barely  to  be  spoken  distinctly.  In  the  other  it  is 
the  chief  word,  and  must  be  spoken  forcibly.  "  And  Saul 
said  unto  Michal,  why  hast  the  deceived  me  so.'*"  "  Then 
said  the  high  priest,  are  these  things  so  ?" 

Another  example  may  show  how  a  change  of  stress 
on  a  particle  changes  the  entire  sense  of  a  sentence.  In 
the  narrative  of  Paul's  voyage  from  Troas  to  Jerusalem, 
it  is  said,  "  Paul  had  determined  to  sail  by  Ephesus." 
This  sentence,  with  a  moderate  stress  on  Ephesus,  im- 
plies that  the  Apostle  meant  to  stop  there  ;  just  as  a  com- 
mon phrase,  "  the  ship  is  going  to  Holland  by  Liverpool," 
— implies  that  she  will  touch  at  the  latter  place. 

Now  what  was  the   fact  in  the  case  of  Paul  ?     The 


etry,  why  is  it,  that,  in  the  sister  art  oi  music ^  as  applied  to  metri- 
cal psalmody,  no  practical  distinction  is  made  between  accent  and 
emphasis  ?  On  the  contrary,  a  choir  is  so  trained  in  psalmody,  as 
not  to  reflect  whether  one  word  has  more  meaning  than  another, 
but  whether  its  relative  position  requires  stronof  or  feeble  utterance. 
Thus  a  full  volume  of  sound  is  poured  out  on  a  preposition^  for  ex- 
ample, just  because  it  happens  to  coincide  with  a  musical  note  at 
the  beginning  of  a  bar.  Illustrations  of  this  are  so  many  that  they 
may  be  taken  almost  at  random.     In  the  Hymn  beginning, 

God  of  the  morning,  at  whose  voice, 
the  musical  accent,  in  many  tunes  would  recur  four  times  during 
the  line,  and  two  of  these  on  prepositions.  But  is  there  no  philos- 
ophy and  rhetoric  in  music?  Is  the  spirit  of  this  divine  art  to  be 
rigidly  tied  down  by  mere  rules  of  harmony  and  metrical  stress  ? 
Music  is  but  an  elegant  and  charming  species  of  elocution.  And, 
important  as  accent  is,  it  should  never  contravene  the  laws  of  sen- 
timent in  the  former,  more  than  in  the  latter  art. 

7 


74  EMPHATIC  STRESS. 

historian  says,  "  he  hasted  to  be  at  Jerusalem,  on  the  day 
of  Pentecost."  Therefore  he  could  not  afford  the  time 
it  would  require  to  visit  his  dear  friends,  the  Ephesian 
church,  and  he  chose  to  pursue  his  voyage  without  see- 
ing them.  But  can  the  words  be  made  to  express  this 
sense  ?  Perfectly  ; — and  that  with  only  an  increase  of 
stress  on  one  particle.  "  Paul  had  determined  to  sail  by 
Ephesus." 

Another  example  shows  us  a  succession  of  small  words 
raised  to  importance,  by  becoming  peculiarly  significant-^ 
In  Shakspeare's  Merchant  of  Venice,  Bassanio  had^  re- 
ceived a  ring  from  his  wife,  with  the  strongest  protestation 
that  it  should  never  part  from  his  finger  ;  but,  in  a  mo- 
ment of  generous  gratitude  for  the  preservation  of  his 
friend's  life,  he  forgot  this  promise,  and  gave  the  ring  to^ 
the  officer  to  whose  kind  interposition  he  ascribed  that 
deliverance.  With  great  mortification  at  the  act,  he  after- 
wards made  the  following  apology  to  his  wife,  an  unem- 
phatic  pronunciation  of  which  leaves  it  scarcely  intelligi- 
ble ;  whlie  distinct  emphasis  on  a  few  small  words  gives 
it  precision  and  vivacity,  thus : 

If  you  did  know  to  whom  I  gave  the  ring'. 

If  you  did  know  for  whom  I  gave  the  ring, 

And  would  conceive  for  what  I  gave  the  ring, 

And  how  unwillingly  I  left  the  ring, 

When  nought  would  be  accepted  but  the  ring, 

You  would  abate  the  strength  of  your  displeasure. 

In  the  case  that  follows  too,  we  see  how  the  meaning 
of  a  sentence  often  depends  on  the  manner  in  which  we 
utter  one  short  word.  *'  One  of  the  servants  of  the  high 
priest,  (being  his  kinsman  whose  ear  Peter  cut  off,)  saith, 


EMPHATIC  STRESS.  76 


did  not  I  see  thee  in  the  garden  with  him  f "  Now  if  we 
utter  this,  as  most  readers  do,  with  a  stress  on  kinsman, 
and  a  short  pause  after  it,  we  make  the  sentence  affirm 
that  the  man  whose  ear  Peter  cut  off  was  kinsman  to  the 
high  priest,  which  was  not  the  fact.  But  a  stress  upon  Ms, 
makes  this  servant,  kinsman  to  another  man,  who  receiv- 
ed the  wound. 

One  more  example  may  suffice,  on  this  point.  When 
our  Saviour  said  to  Peter  ; — "  Lovest  thou  me  more  than 
these  ?" — he  probably  referred  to  the  confident  professions 
oT  his  own  attachment  to  Christ,  which  the  apostle  had 
presumed  would  remain  unshaken,  though  that  of  his  breth- 
ren should  fail ;  but  which  professions  he  had  wofully  vio- 
lated in  the  hour  of  trial.  If  this  is  the  spirit  of  the  ques- 
tion, it  is  a  tender  but  severe  admonition,  which  would  be 
expressed  by  emphasis,  thus;  "Lovest  thou  me,  more 
than  these  ?"  that  is,   more  than  thy   brethren  love  me  ? 

But  respectable  interpreters  have  supposed  the  ques- 
tion to  refer  to  Peter's  affection  merely,  and  to  contrast 
two  objects  of  that  affection  ;  and  this  would  change  the 
emphasis  thus  ; — "  Lovest  thou  me  more  than  these  ?" — 
that  is,  more  than  thou  lovest  thy  brethren  ? 

These  illustrations  show  that  the  principle  of  emphat- 
ic stress  is  perfectly  simple ;  and  that  it  falls  on  a  partic- 
ular word,  not  chiefly  because  that  word  belongs  to  one 
or  another  class  in  grammar,  but  because,  in  the  present 
case,  it  is  important  in  sense.  To  designate  the  words 
that  are  thus  important,  by  the  action  of  the  voice  in  em- 
phasis, is  just  what  the  etymological  import  of  this  term 
implies,  namely,  to  show,  to  point  out,  to  make   manifest. 

But  farther  to  elucidate  a  subject,  that  has  been  treat- 


76  EMPHATIC  STRESS. 

, _ ^ 

ed  with  much  obscurity,  emphatic  stress  may  be  distin- 
guished into  that  which  is  absolute,  and  that  which  is  an- 
tithetic or  relative, 

20]     1 .  Absolute  emphatic  stress. 

Walker,  and  others  who  have  been  implicitly  guided 
by  his  authority,  without  examination,  lay  down  the  broad 
position,  that  emphasis  always  implies  antithesis  ;  and  that 
it  can  never  be  proper  to  give  emphatic  stress  to  a  word, 
unless  it  stands  opposed  to  something  in  sense.  Accor- 
dingly, to  find  the  emphasis  m  a  sentence,  the  direction 
given  is,  to  take  the  word  we  suppose  to  be  emphatical, 
and  try  if  it  will  admit  of  those  words  being  supplied, 
which  antithesis  would  demand  ;  and  if  the  words  thus 
supplied,  agree  with  the  meaning  of  the  writer,  the  em- 
phasis is  laid  properly,— -otherwise,  improperly. 

EXAMPLE. 

Exercise  and  temperance  strengthen  even  an  indifferent  consti- 
tution. 

The  emphatic  word  here  suggests,  as  the  antithetic 
clause  to  be  supplied; — not  merely  a  good  constitution; 
and  this  accords  with  the  meaning  of  the  writer. 

Now  the  error  of  these  treatises  is,  that  what  in  truth 
is  only  one  important  ground  of  emphasis,  is  made  the 
sole,  and  the  universal  ground.  Indeed,  if  it  were  admit- 
ted that  there  is  no  emphasis  without  antithesis,  it  would 
by  no  means  follow?  (as  1  shall  show  under  emphatic  in- 
flection,) that  all  cases  of  opposition  in  thought  are  to  be 
analysed  in  the  mode  above  proposed.  But  the  princi- 
ple assumed  cannot  be  admitted  ;  for  to  say  that  there  is 


EMPHATIC   STRESS.  ^    />  ^    Tffo: 


no  absolute  emphasis,  is  to  say  that  a  thought  is  never  im- 
portant, considered  by  itself;  or  that  the  figure  of  con- 
trast is  the  only  way  in  which  a  thought  can  be  express- 
ed with  force.  The  theory  which  supposes  this,  is  too 
narrow  to  correspond  with  the  philosophy  of  elocution. 
Emphasis  is  the  soul  of  delivery,  because  it  is  the  most 
discriminating  mark  of  emotion.  Contrast  is  among  the 
sources  of  emotion  :  and  the  kind  of  contrast  really  in- 
tended by  Walker  and  others,  namely,  that  of  affirmation 
and  negation,  it  is  peculiarly  the  province  of  emphasis  to 
designate.  But  this  is  not  the  whole  of  its  province. 
There  are  other  sources,  besides  antithetic  relation,  from 
which  the  mind  receives  strong  and  vivid  impressions, 
which  it  is  the  office  of  vocal  language  to  express.  Thus 
exclamation,  apostrophe,  and  bold  figures  in  general,  de- 
noting high  emotion,  demand  a  correspondent  force  in 
pronunciation  ;  and  that  too  in  many  cases  where  the  em- 
phatic force  laid  on  a  v/ord  is  absolute,  because  the  thought 
expressed  by  that  word  is  forcible  of  itself,  without  any 
aid  from  contrast.  Of  this  the  reader  may  be  satisfied 
by  turning  to  [13]  p.  57,  and  noting  such  examples  as 
these  : 

^Up  I  comrades, — up  I — 

Wo  unto  you,  Pharisees  /-^ 

Hence  ! — home,  you  idle  creatures — 

^Angels  !  and  ministers  oi grace, — defend  us.* 


*  The  following  anecdote  of  Whitefield,  which  is  probably  fa- 
miliar to  most  readers,  contains  an  illustration  altog^ether  to  my 
purpose.  It  is  a  passage  repeated  by  Hume,  from  the  close  of  a 
sermon  which  he  heard  from  that  preacher.  "  After  a  solemn 
pause,  Mr.  Whitefield  thus  addressed  his  numerous  audience  :  'The 
attendant  angel  is  just  about  to  leave  the  threshold,  and  ascend  to 

7* 


73  RELATIVE  STRESS. 


Now,  in  such  a  case,  we  may  speculate  on  the  em- 
phatic force  of  the  exclamation,  and  *  try  if  the  sense  will 
admit  some  antithetic  clause  to  be  supplied  ;'  but  it  is  mere 
trifling.  The  truth  is,  when  strong  passion  speaks,  it 
speaks  strongly,  and,  if  no  untoward  habit  intervenes, 
speaks  with  just  that  degree  and  kind  of  stress  which  the 
passion    itself  demands. 

21]  2.  Antithetic  or  relative  stress. 
Though  we  cannot  consider  opposition  in  sense  as 
the  exclusive  ground  of  strong  emphasis,  it  is  doubtless  a 
more  common  one  than  any  other.  The  principle  on 
which  the  stress  depends  in  this  case,  will  be  evident  from 
a  few  examples. 

Study,  not  so  much  to  show  knowledge  as  to  acquire  it. 

He  that  cannot  bear  a  jest,  should  not  make  one. 

It  is  not  so  easy  to  hide  one"*s  faults,  as  to  mend  them. 

We  think  less  of  the  injuries  we  c?o,  than  of  those  we  suffer. 

It  is  not  so  difficult  to  talk  well,  as  to  live  well, 

We  must  take  heed  not  only  to  ^  hat  we  say,  but  to  what  we  rfo. 

In  these  short  sentences  the  antithetic  words,  requir- 
ing enlphatic  force,  are  so  obvious  that  they  can  hard- 
ly be  mistaken  by  any  one.      When  the  antithetic  terms 

in  a  sentence,  are  both  expressed,  the  mind  instantly  per- 

-  ■  I  '  — ■ — — — ^— ^— ^— — — ^— — — — — — — ^^— — — — — ^^— ^— 

beaven.  And  shall  he  ascend,  and  not  bear  with  him  the  news  of 
one  sinner,  among  all  this  multitude,  reclaimed  from  the  error  of 
his  ways  ?'  Then  he  stamped  with  his  foot,  lifted  up  his  hands  and 
eyes  to  heaven,  and  with  gushing  tears,  cried  aloud, — ^Slop,  Ga- 
briel !  Wop,  Gabriel !  stop,  ere  you  enter  the  sacred  portals,  and 
yet  carry  with  you  the  news  of  one  sinner  converted  to  God.' " 
The  high  emotion  of  the  speaker  in  this  case,  and  the  powers  of 
utterance  with  which  that  emotion  was  expressed,  melted  the  asr 
aembly  into  tears. 


RELATIVE  STRESS.  79 

ceives  the  opposition  between  tiiem,  and  the  voice  as 
readily  marks  the  proper  distinction.  But  when  only  one 
of  these  terms  is  expressed,  the  other  is  to  be  made  out 
by  reflection ;  and  in  proportion  to  the  ease  or  difficulty 
with  which  this  antithetic  relation  is  perceived  by  the 
mind,  the  emphatic  sense  is  more  or  less  vivid.  On  this 
principle,  when  a  word  expresses  one  part  of  a  contrast, 
while  it  only  suggests  the  other,  that  word  must  be  spok- 
en with  a  force  adapted  to  its  peculiar  office ;  and  this  is 
the  very  case  where  the  power  of  emphasis  rises  to  its 
highest  point.  This  part  of  the  subject  too  may  be  ren- 
dered more  intelligible  by  a  few  examples. 

Shakspeare's  Julius  Caesar  furnishes  several  which 
are  sufficiently  appropriate.  In  the  scene  betwixt  Bru- 
tus and  Cassius,  the  latter  says, 

I  that  denyM  thee  gold,  will  give  my  hearty 
Here  the  antithetic  terms  gold  and  heart,  being  both  ex- 
pressed, a  common  emphatic  stress  on  these  makes  the  sense 
obvious.     But  in  the  following  case,  only  one  part  of  the 
antithesis  is  expressed.     Brutus  says. 

You  wronged  yourself,  to  write  in  such  a  case. 

The  strong  emphasis  on  yourself,  implies  that  Cassius 
thought  himself  injured  by  some  other  person.     Accord- 
ingly we  see  in  the  preceding  sentence  his  charge  against 
Brutus, — "  you  have  wronged  me." 
Again,  Brutus  says  to  Cassius, 

You  have  done  that  you  should  be  sorry  for. 
With  a  slight  stress  upon  sorry,  this  implies  that  he  had 
done  wrong  ;  but  suggests  nothing  of  the  antithetic  mean- 
ing denoted  by  the  true  emphasis,  thus. 

You  have  done  that  you  thotUd  be  sorry  for. 


80  EMPHATIC  INFLECTION. 


This  emphasis  on  the  former  word  iiB plies,  "  Not  only 
are  you  liable  lo  do  wrong,  but  you  have  done  so  alrea- 
dy ;"  on  the  latter  it  implies,  "  though  you  are  not  sorry, 
you  ought  lo  be  sorry."  This  was  precisely  the  mean- 
ing of  Brutus,  for  he  replied  to  a  threat  of  Cassius,"  "  I 
may  do  that  I  shall  be  sorry  for." 

One  more  example  from  the  same  source.  Marul- 
lus,  alluding  to  the  reverence  in  which  Pompey  had  been 
held,  says, 

And  when  you  saw  his  chariot  but  appear, 

Have  you  not  made  an  universal  shout  ? 

Lay  a  stress  now  on  his  in  the  first  line,  and  you  make  a 
contrast  betwixt  the  emotion  felt  in  seeing  other  chariots, 
and  in  seeing  Pompey^s.  Lay  the  stress  on  chariot,  and 
it  is  not  implied  that  there  was  any  other  besides  his  in 
Rome  ;  for  then  the  antithesis  suggested  is,  the  sight,  not 
of  his  person  merely,  but  of  the  vehicle  in  which  he  rode, 
produced  a  shout. 

22]     Sect.  2. — Emphatic  Inflection. 

Thus  far  our  view  of  emphasis  has  been  limited  to  the 
degree  of  stress  with  which  emphatic  words  are  spoken. 
But  this  is  only  a  part  of  the  subject.  The  kind  of  stress 
is  not  less  important  to  the  sense  than  the  degree.  Let 
any  one  glance  his  eye  over  the  examples  of  the  forego- 
ing pages,  and  he  will  see  that  strong  emphasis  demands, 
in  all  cases,  an  appropriate  inflection  ;  and  that  to  change 
this  inflection  perverts  the  sense.  This  will  be  perceived 
at  once  in  the  following  case,  "  We  must  take  heed  not  on- 
ly to  what  we  say,  but   to  what  we  dd."     By  changing 


EMPHATIC  INFLECTION.  81 

this  slide,  and  laying  the  falling  on  say  and  the  rising  on  rfo, 
every  ear  must  feel  that  violence  is  done  to  the  meaning. 
So  in  this  case, 

The  fault,  dear  Brutus,  is  not  in  our  stars  ; 
But  in  onrselves^  that  we  are  underlings ; 

the  rising  inflection  or  circumflex  on  stars  and  the  falling 
inflection  on  ourselves  is  so  indispensable,  that  no  reader 
of  the  least  taste  would  mistake  the  one  for  the  other. 
The  fact  in  these  instances  however  is,  that  wrong  inflec- 
tion confounds  the  true  sense,  rather  than  expresses  a  false 
one.  Let  us  then  take  an  example  or  too  in  which  the 
whole  meaning  of  a  sentence  depends  on  the  inflection 
given  to  a  single  word.  Buchanan,  while  at  the  Univer- 
sity, said,  in  a  letter  to  a  Christian  friend, 

In  the  retirement  of  a  college^  I  am  unable  to  suppress  evil 
thoug^hts. 

Here  the  emphatic  downward  slide  being  given  to  college, 
expresses  the  true  sense,  namely,  "  How  difficult  must  it 
be  to  keep  my  heart  from  evil  thoughts  amid  the  tempta- 
tions of  the  world  ;  when  I  cannot  do  this  even  in  the  re- 
tirement of  a  college.^^  But  lay  the  circumflex  on  col- 
lege, thus ;  "  In  the  retirement  of  a  college,  I  cannot  sup- 
press evil  thoughts  ;"  and  you  transform  the  meaning  to 
this,  "  I  cannot  suppress  evil  thoughts  here,  in  retirement, 
though  I  might  perhaps  do  it  amid  the  temptations  of  the 
world." 

In  the  Fair  Penitent  Horatio  says, 

I  would  not  turn  aside  from  my  least  pleasure, 
Though  all  thy  force  were  armed  to  bar  my  way. 

The  circumflex  on  thy  implies  sneer  and  scorn.  "  I  might 


82  EMPHATIC  INFLECTIOr^. 

turn  aside  for  respectable  opposition,  but  not  for  such  as 
thxne,'*^  But  the  falling  slide  on  thy  turns  contempt  into 
compliment.  "  I  would  not  turn  aside  even  for  thy  force, 
great  as  it  is." 

One  more  question  remains  to  be  answered  ;  bow 
shall  we  know  when  an  emphatic  word  demands  the  ris- 
ing, and  when  the  falling  inflection  ?  A  brief  reply  to 
this  inquiry  seems  indispensable,  before  we  drop  this  part 
of  the  subject. 

On  this  point,  the  "  grand  distinction"  of  Walker,  as 
hQ  calls  it,  is; — "  The  falling  injle^tion  affinm  something 
in  the  emphasis,  and  denies  what  is  opposed  to  it  in  the 
antithesis  ;  while  the  emphasis  with  the  rising  inflection^ 
affirms  something  in  the  emphasis,  without  denying  what  is 
opposed  to  it  in  the  antithesis, "^^ 

I  have  always  considered  it  a  great  infelicity  that  the 
many  excellent  remarks  of  this  writer  on  emphatic  inflec- 
tion, are  so  destitute  of  intelligible  classification.  On  his 
theory  which  makes  antithesis  essential  to  emphasis,  uni- 
versally, and  antithesis  too  by  affirmation  and  negation, — 
the  amount  of  more  than  twenty  pages,  designed  to  illus- 
trate the  above  position  is  simply  this ; — When  affirmation 
is  opposed  to  negation, — the  emphatic  word  or  clause 
which  affirms,  has  the  falling  inflection,  and  that  which 
denies,  the  rising.  This  is  so  plainly  an  elementary  prin- 
ciple of  vocal  inflection,  as  I  have  shown  [7]  p.  49,  that 
it  requires  no  farther  remark,  except  this  one,  that  the 
case  here  supposed  implies  strong,  positive  affirmation. 

But  the  ingenious  writer  above  named  perceived  that 
there  was  still  something  to  be  explained  about  a  part  of 
this  subject ;  and  therefore  extended  his  canon  concern- 


EMPHATIC  INFLECTION.  83 

ing  the  emphasis  with  the  rising  inflection  by  saying,  '*  that 
it  affirms  something  in  the  emphasis  without  denying  what 
u  opposed  to  it  in  the  antithesis"  That  the  illustration 
of  this  point  should  be  dark  to  his  readers  is  not  strange, 
since  it  evidently  was  so  to  himself.  The  first  step  he 
takes  is  to  give  an  example,  which  unfortunately  contra- 
dicts the  theory  it  was  designed  to  establish. 

*Twas  base  and  poor,  unworthy  of  a  mdn^ 
To  forge  a  scroll  so  villanous  and  loose. 

His  commentary  on  this  emphasis  is — "  Unworthy  ofa 
man,  though  not  unworthy  of  a  brute."  In  repealing  this,, 
most  certainly  I  both  affirm  and  deny.  1  affirm  that  a 
certain  act  is  unworthy  of  a  man,  and  deny  that  it  is  un- 
worthy of  a  brute.  What  then  becomes  of  the  rule  just 
stated  } 

Besides,  if  the  rising  emphatic  inflection  affirms  on 
one  side,  without  denying  on  the  other,  what  becomes  of 
the  antithesis  ? — and  what  becomes  of  the  broad  position, 
that  without  antithesis  there  can  be  no  emphasis  ?  The 
truth  is  that  this  position  being  erroneous,  the  "  intrica- 
cies of  distinction"  resulting  from  it  are  needless.  One 
who  is  familiar  with  the  simple  rules  of  inflection,  can  sel- 
dom mistake  as  to  the  proper  slide  on  an  emphatic  word. 
The  voice  instinctively  accompanies  emphatic,  positive 
affirmation  with  the  falling  slide,  and  the  antithetic  nega- 
tion with  the  rising. 

But  there  is  a  large  class  of  sentences,  in  which  qual- 
ijied  affirmation  demands  the  rising  turn  of  voice,  often 
where  an  antithetic  object  is  suggested  or  expressed  hypo^ 
thetically.     Having  seen  no  satisfactory  explanation  of  the 


84  EMPHATIC  INFLECTION. 

rising  emphasis  which  occurs  in  such  cases,  1  will  briefly 
suggest  my  own  thoughts  on  this  point.  And  it  should 
be  premised  that  it  is  not  the  simple  rising  slide,  but  the 
circumflex,  which  designates  this  sort  of  emphasis.  The 
two  indeed,  as  I  have  said  before,  may  fall  on  shades  of 
thought  so  nearly  the  same,  that  it  is  immaterial  which  is 
used  ;  while  in  other  cases  the  office  of  the  circumflex  is 
so  peculiar  as  to  make  it  quite  perceptible  to  an  ear  of 
any  discrimination.     In  examples  like  the  following  ; 

We  should  seek  to  mhid  our  faults,  not  to  hide  them. 

You  were  paid  to  fight  ag^ainst  Alexander,  not  to  rail  at  him  ; 

it  has  been  usual  to  mark  the  rising  emphasis,  with  the 
simple  slide  upwards ;  whereas  in  unaffected  conversation  ;, 
the  twist  of  the  circumflex  is  generally  heard,  in  such  ca- 
ses. 

With  this  preliminary  remark,  I  proceed  to  say,  that 
the  plain  distinction  between  the  rising  and  the  falling  em- 
phasis, when  antithetic  relation  is  expressed  or  suggested, 
is,  the  falling  denotes  positive  affirmation,  or  enunciation 
of  a  thought  with  energy  ;  the  rising  either  expresses  iie- 
gation,  or  qualified  and  conditional  affirmation.  In  the 
latter  case  the  antithetic  object,  if  jthere  is  one,  may  be 
suggested  ironically,  or  hypothetically,  or  comparatively  ; 
thus — Ironically  ; 

They  tell  us  to  be  moderate  ;  but  Mcy,  thty  are  to  revel  in  pro- 
fusion. 

Hypothetically  ; 

If  men  see  our  faults,  ,tbey  will  talk  among^  themsilvts^  though 
we  refuse  to  let  them  talk  to  xu» 

I  see  thou  hast  learnM  to  rail. 


EMPHATIC  INFLECTION.  85 

In  this  latter  example,  the  hypothetical  affirmation  re- 
quires the  circumflex  on  the  emphasis,  while  the  indefi- 
nite antithesis  is  not  expressed,  as  in  the  preceding  exam- 
ple, but  suggested  ;  "  Thou  hast  learn'd  to  rdi7,  if  thou 
hast  not  learn'd  any  thing  bUter  than  this." 

Comparatively  ; 

Satan ' 

The  tempter^  ere  the  accuser  of  mankind. 

The  begg^ar  was  blind  as  well  as  lame. 

He  is  more  knave  than  fooL 

Caesar  deserved  blame  more  than /ame. 

Now  if  any  one  chooses  to  ask  the  reason  why  these  em- 
phatic inflections  occur  in  this  order,  he  may  see  it  per- 
haps by  a  bare  inspection  of  the  foregoing  examples  to- 
gether. In  such  a  connexion  of  two  correlate  words, 
whether  in  contrast  or  comparison,  the  most  prominent  of 
the  two  in  sense,  that  in  which  the  essence  of  the  thought 
lies,  commonly  has  the  strong,  falling  emphasis  ;  and  that 
which  expresses  something  subordinate  or  circumstantial, 
has  the  rising.  The  same  rising  or  circumflex  emphasis 
prevails  where  the  thought  is  conditional,  or  something  is 
implied  or  insinuated,  rather  than  strongly  expressed. 
Negative  clauses  perhaps  so  generally  fall  into  this  class 
of  inflections  because  they  are  so  often  only  explanatory 
of  the  main  thought. 

As  the  foregoing  remarks  have  been  confined  chiefly 
to  the  inflection  of  relative  emphasis,  the  reader  may  ex- 
pect me  to  dwell  a  little  on  the  same  point,  as  connected 
with  absolute  emphasis. 

Here  the  examples  to  be   adduced  will,  be  a  farther 
8 


86  EMPHATIC  INFLECTION. 

refutation  of  the  theory  which  restricts  emphasis  wholly 
to  antithesis  by  affirmation  and  denial.  If  this  theory 
were  correct,  there  would  be  no  emphatic  stress  nor  in- 
flection in  the  following  cases  ; 

1.  Of  apposition  ; 

Simon^  Son  of  Jonas ^ — lovest  thou  me  ? 

To  affirm  this,  is  to  contradict  Paul^  the  Apostle, 

In  the  multiplied  cases  of  this  sort,  where  two  names 
are  used  for  the  same  person,  surely  the  ground  of  em- 
phasis on  both,  is  not  opposition  in  sense. 

2.  Of  the  indirect  question  and  its  answer. 

Who  first  seduced  them  to  that  foul  revolt  ? 
The  infernal  serpent. — 

Where  is  bdasting  then  ? — It  is  excluded. 

Here  again  the  emphasis  is  absolute. 

3.  Of  the  direct  question  and  its  answer. 

.In  Shakspeare's  Julius  Caesar,  the  indignant  Marullus 

thus  chides  the  citizens  for  their  blind  adoration  of  Cajsar  ; 

O  you  hard  hearts,  you  cruel  men  of  Rome  I 
Knew  ye  not  Pdmpey  ? 

So  afterwards, — 

And  do  you  now  strew  flowers  in  his  way, 
That  comes  in  triumph  over  Pompey's  bl6od .? 

Again,— 

Are  they  Hebrews?  — So  am  /\ 

Shall  Rome  be  taken,  while  I  am  C6nsul?'^J^d. 

In  both  sorts  of  question,  there  is  indeed  what  may 
properly  be  termed  contrast ;  and  in  the  direct  question, 
this  contrast  between  question  and  answer  is  marked  by 


EMPHATIC  INFLECTION.  87 

opposite  inflection.  But  this  is  a  case  that  does  not  at  all 
come  within  Mr.  Walker's  rule, — ''That  the  falling  inflec- 
tion affirms  something  in  the  emphasis,  and  denies  what 
is  opposed  to  it  in  the  antithesis  ;  and  the  rising  affirms 
without  such  denial.^^  Let  this  rule  be  tried  by  the  fore- 
going examples,  and  it  will  be  apparent  that  no  antithesis 
by  affirmation  and  denial  can  be  made  out  in  any  of  them, 
except  by  an  effort  of  fancy.  Take  that  one  ending, — 
"  Knew  ye  not  Pompey  ?"  and  instead  of  puzzling  the 
mind  to  discover  what  is  affirmed  in  this  rising  emphasis, 
and  what  is  not  denied  in  a  supposed  antithesis,  how  much 
easier  is  it  to  say, — the  case  falls  under  that  general  law 
of  interrogative  inflection,  which  always  inclines  the  voice 
upward. 

But  these  illustrations  need  not  be  extended.  The 
amount  is,  that  generally  the  weaker  emphasis,  where 
there  is  lender,  or  conditional,  or  partial  enunciation  of 
thought,  requires  the  voice  to  rise :  while  the  strong  em- 
phasis, where  the  thought  is  bold,  and  the  language  posi- 
tive, adopts  ihe  falling  slide,  except  where  some  counter- 
acting principle  occurs,  as  in  the  interrogative  inflection 
just  mentioned.  Emphatic  inflection  varies  according  to 
those  general  laws  of  the  voice  which  I  have  endeavoured 
to  describe  at  some  length.  Chap.  III.  p.  42 — 65.  For 
these  varieties  we  may  assign  good  reasons,  in  some  ca- 
ses ;  while  in  others  we  must  stop  with  the  fact,  that  such 
are  the  setded  usages  of  elocution  ;  and  in  others  still,  we 
can  only  say  such  are  the  instinctive  principles  of  vocal 
intonation.^     In  all  such  cases,  explanation  becomes  ob- 

*  A  technical  sense  of  this  word,  seems  indispensable. 


88  EMPHATIC    CLAUSE. 


scurity,  if  carried  out  of  its  proper  limits.  Beyond  these, 
I  can  no  more  tell  why  sorrow  or  supplication  incline  the 
voice  to  the  rising  slide,  while  indignation  or  command  in- 
cline it  to  the  falling,  than  I  can  tell  why  one  emotion 
flashes  in  the  eye,  and  another  vents  itself  in  tears.  Nor 
is  it  reasonable  to  demand  such  explanations  on  this  sub- 
ject, as  are  not  expected  on  any  other.  The  logician  rests 
in  his  consciousness  and  his  experience  as  the  basis  of  ar- 
gument ;  and  philosophy  no  more  requires  or  allows  u& 
to  push  our  inquiries  beyond  first  principles  or  facts,  in  el- 
ocution, than  in  logic. 

23]  In  closing  these  remarks  on  emphatic  inflection, 
the  reader  should  be  reminded  that  the  distinction  sug- 
gested, p.  43,  between  the  common  and  the  intensive  in- 
flection, applies  to  every  part  of  the  subject.  As  empha- 
sis varies  with  sentiment  in  degrees  of  strength,  it  requires 
a  correspondent  difference  in  the  force,  the  elevation  of 
note,  and  the  extent  of  slide,  which  distinguish  important 
words. 

24]  Emphatic  Clause. 

Before  I  dismiss  the  article  of  emphasis,  one  or  two 
points  should  have  some  notice,  because  they  belong  to 
the  general  subject,  though  not  distinctly  classed  under 
the  foregoing  heads. 

It  will  be  readily  perceived  that  the  stress  proper  to 
be  laid  on  any  single  word,  to  denote  its  importance,  de- 
pends much  on  the  comparative  stress  with  which  other 
words  in  the  same  sentence  are  pronounced.  A  whis- 
per, if  it  is  soft  or  strong,  according  to  sense,  may  be  as 
truly   discriminating  as   the  loudest   tones.     The  voice 


EMPHATIC  CLAUSE.  89 

should  be  disciplined  to  this  distinction,  in  order  to  avoid 
the  common  fault,  which  confounds  vociferation  with  em- 
phatic expression.  Many,  to  become  forcible  speakers, 
utter  the  current  words  of  a  sentence  in  so  loud  a  tone, 
that  the  whole  seems  a  mere  continuity  of  strong  articu- 
late sounds  ;  or  if  emphatic  stress  is  attempted  on  partic- 
ular words,  it  is  done  with  such  violence  as  to  offend 
against  all  propriety.  This  is  the  declamatory  manner. 
The  power  of  emphasis,  when  it  belongs  to  single  words, 
depends  on  concentration.  To  extend  it  through  a  sen- 
tence, is  to  destroy  it. 

But  there  are  cases  in  which  more  than  common 
stress  belongs  to  several  words  in  succession,  forming  an 
emphatic  clause.  This  is  sometimes  called  general  em- 
phasis. In  some  cases  of  this  sort,  the  several  syllables 
have  nearly  equal  stress :  thus  ; 


■Heaven  and  earth  will  witness, 


If — Rome— MUST — fall, that  we  are  innocent. 

In  uttering  this  emphatic  clause,  the  voice  drops  its  pitch, 
and  proceeds  nearly  in  a  grave,  deliberate  monotone. 

In  other  cases,  such  a  clause  is  to  be  distinguished 
from  the  rest  of  the  sentence,  by  a  general  increase  of 
force  ;  and  yet  its  words  retain  a  relative  difference  among 
themselves,  in  quantity,  stress,  and  inflection.  This  ap- 
pears in  the  indignant  reply  of  the  youthful  Pitt,  to  his 
aged  accuser  in  debate; 

But  youth,  it  seems,  is  not  my  only  crime  ;  I  have  been  accus- 
ed,—o/ac/mg-  a  THEATRICAL  part. 

And  afterwards,  arraigning  the  ministry,  he  said, 

As  to  the  present  gentlemen, — I  cannot  give  them  my  confi- 
8^ 


90  EMPHATIC    CLAUSE. 


dence.  Pardon  me,  gentlemen, — conjidtiict  is  a  plant  of  SLo-vr 
growth. 

In  both  these  cases  the  emphatic  thought  belongs  to  the 
whole  clause,  as  marked,  requiring  a  grave  under-tone  ; 
but  one  word  in  each  must  have  more  stress  than  the 
rest,  and  a  note  somewhat  higher. 

The  want  of  proper  distinctions  as  to  the  emphatic 
clause,  occasioned,  if  1  mistake  not,  the  difference  of  opin- 
ion between  Garrick  and  Johnson  respecting  the  seat  of  em- 
phasis in  the  ninth  commandment ;  "  Thou  shalt  not  bear 
false  witness  against  thy  neighbor."  Garrick  laid  the  stress 
on  shalt^  to  express  the  authority  of  the  precept;  Johnson 
on  not  to  express  its  negative  character.  But  clearly  both 
^re  wrong,  for  in  neither  of  these  respects  is  this  command 
to  be  distinguished  from  others  with  which  it  is  connect- 
ed. And  if  we  place  the  stress  on  false  or  on  neighbor, 
still  an  antithetic  relation  is  suggested,  which  does  not  ac- 
cord with  llie  design  of  the  precept.  Now  let  it  be  ob- 
served, that  here  is  a  series  of  precepts  forbidding  certain 
sins  against  man,  our  neighbor.  Each  of  these  is  intro- 
duced with  the  prohibitory  phrase,  "thou  shalt  not,"  and 
then  comes  the  thing  forbidden  ;  in  the  sixth,  kill ; — in  the 
eighth,  steal; — in  the  ninth,  '^  bear  false  witness.'*^  This 
shows  the  point  of  emphatic  discrimination.  In  the  latter 
case,  the  stress  falls  not  on  a  single  word,  but  on  a  clause, 
the  last  word  of  this  clause,  however,  in  the  present  case, 
demanding  more  stress  than  either  of  the  others. 

One  more  example  may  make  this  last  remark  still 
plainer.  Suppose  Paul  to  have  said  merely,  "  I  came 
nol  \o  baptize,  hxiX  to^reacA,"     The  contrast  expressed 


EMPHATIC  CLAUSE.  91 

limits  the  emphasis  to  two  words.  But  lake  the  whole 
sentence  as  it  is  in  Paul's  language,  "  I  came  not  to  bap- 
tize, but  to  preach  the  gospel  ;" — and  you  have  a  con- 
trast between  an  emphatic  word^  and  an  emphatic  clause. 
And  though  the  sense  is  just  as  before,  you  must  change 
the  stress  in  this  clause  from  preachy  to  gospel^  or  you  ut- 
ter nonsense.  If  you  retain  the  stress  on  preachy  the  par- 
aphrase is  "  I  came  not  to  baptize  the  gospel,  but  io  preach 
the  gospel." 


DOUBLE  EMPHASIS. 

This  is  always  grounded  on  antithetic  relation,  ex- 
pressed in  pairs  of  contrasted  objects.  It  will  be  suffi- 
ciently illustrated  by  a  very  few  examples. 

The  young  are  slaves  to  novelty^  the  old  to  custom. 

And  why  beholdest  thou  the  mote  that  is  in  thy  brother"**  eye, 
but  considerest  not  the  beam,  that  is  in  thine  own  eye  ? 

There  is  but  one  remark,  which  is  important  to  be 
made  in  this  case.  In  such  a  reduplication  of  emphasis, 
its  highest  effect  is  not  to  be  expected.  In  attempting  to 
give  the  utmost  significance  to  each  of  the  terms  standing 
in  close  succession,  we  are  in  danger  of  diminishing  the 
amount  of  meaning  expressed  by  the  whole.  The  only 
rule  that  can  be  adopted  is  so  to  adjust  the  stress  and  in- 
flection of  voice  on  the  different  terms  as  shall  most  clear- 
ly, and  yet  most  agreeably  convey  the  sense  of  the  entire 
passage. 


CHAP.  VI. 


MODULATION. 


I  use  this  term  in  the  largest  sense,  as  a  convenient  one 
to  denote  that  variety  in  managing  the  voice,  which  ap- 
pears in  the  delivery  of  a  good  speaker.*  This  includes 
a  number  of  distinct  topics,  which  may  perhaps  with  suf- 
ficient exactness  be  brought  together  in  one  chapter. 

Sect.  1. — Faults  of  Modulation. 

1.  Monotony. 

The  remark  has  been  made  in  a  former  page,  that 
the  monotone,  employed  with  skill,  in  pronouncing  a  sim- 
ile, or  occasionally  an  elevated  or  forcible  thought,  may 
have  great  rhetorical  effect.  Its  propriety  in  such  a  case, 
is  felt  instinctively  ;  just  as  other  movements  of  the  voice 
are  fek  to  be  proper,  when  they  are  prompted  by  genius 
and  emotion.     But  the  thing  1  mean  to  condemn  has  no 


•  Though  1  admire  precision  in  language,  I  must  here  ag^ain 
express  my  dissent  from  all  needless  distinctions  on  a  subject  so 
practical  as  this.  Wright  in  his  Elocution  considers  tune  as  equiv- 
alent to  Tariety,  harmony,  cadence  ;  and  tone^  as  equivalent  to 
strength  and  compass  ;  and  criticises  Sheridan  for  making  no  such 
distinction.  But  surely  no  distinction  and  no  definition  of  terms  is 
as  good  as  one  too  loose  to  be  of  any  value.  Technical  terms  eve- 
ry art  and  science  must  have  ;  but  modern  taste  has  very  properly 
dispensed  with  a  large  pioportion  of  those  terms,  which  make  the 
technical  nomenclature  of  ancient  rhetoric  a  greater  burden  to 
memory  than  the  acquisition  of  a  new  language. 


FAULTS  OP  MODULATION.  93 

such  qualities  to  give  it  vivacity.  It  is  that  dull  repetitioQ 
of  sounds,  on  the  same  pitch,  and  with  the  same  quantity, 
which  the  hearers  are  ready  to  ascribe,  (and  commonly 
with  justice,)  to  the  want  of  spirit  in  the  speaker.  They 
easily  excuse  themselves  for  feeling  no  interest  in  what 
he  says,  when  apparently  he  feels  none  himself.  Want 
of  variety  is  fatal  to  vivacity  and  interest  in  delivery,  on  the 
same  principle  that  it  is  so  in  all  other  cases. 

Let  the  poet  be  confined  to  one  undeviating  succes- 
sion of  syllables  and  of  rhyme,  and  who  would  be  en- 
chanted with  his  numbers  ?  Let  the  painter  be  con- 
fined to  one  colour,  and  where  is  the  magic  of  his  art  ? 
What  gives  its  charm  to  the  landscape  ? — What  gives  life 
to  the  countenance,  and  language  to  the  eye,  as  represent- 
ed on  the  canvass  ?  Not  such  a  use  of  colours  as  fits  the 
character  of  a  post  or  ceiling,  all  white,  or  all  red  ;  but 
such  a  blending  of  colours  as  give  the  variety  of  life  and 
intelligence.  The  same  difference  exists  between  a 
heavy,  uniform  movement  of  the  voice,  and  that  which 
corresponds  with  real  emotion.  In  music  a  succession  of 
perfect  concords,  especially  on  the  same  note,  would  be 
intolerable. 

2.  Mechanical  variety. 

An  unskilful  reader  perhaps  is  resolved  to  avoid  mo- 
notony. In  attempting  to  do  this,  he  may  fall  into  other 
habits,  scarcely  less  offensive  to  the  ear,  and  not  at  all 
more  consistent  with  the  principles  of  ^  just  elocution.  In 
uttering  a  sentence,  he  may  think  nothing  more  is  neces- 
sary, than  to  employ  the  greatest  possible  number  of  notes; 
and  thus  his  chief  aim  is  to  leap  from  one  extreme  to  an- 


94  FATTLTS  OF  MODULATION. 

Other  of  his  voire.  In  a  short  time,  this  attempt  at  variety 
becomes  a  regular  return  o(  similar  notes,  at  stated  inter- 
vals. 

Another  defect,  of  the  same  sort,  arises  from  an  at- 
tempt to  produce  variety  by  a  frequent  change  of  stress. 
The  man  is  disgusted  with  the  plodding  uniformity  that 
measures  out  syllables  and  words,  as  a  dragoon  does  his 
steps.  He  aims  therefore  at  an  emphatic  manner,  which 
shall  give  a  much  greater  quantity  of  sound  to  some  words 
that  to  others.  But  here  too  the  only  advantage  gained 
is,  that  we  exchange  an  absolute  for  a  relative  sameness ; 
for  the  favorite  stress  returns  periodically,  without  regard 
to  sense. 

There  is  still  another  kind  of  this  uniform  variety, 
which  is  extremely  common  at  our  public  schools  and 
colleges,  and  from  them  is  carried  into  the  different  de- 
partments of  public  speaking.  It  consists  in  the  habit  of 
striking  a  sentence  at  the  beginning,  with  a  high  and  full 
voice,  which  becomes  gradually  weaker  and  lower,  as  the 
sentence  proceeds,  especially  if  it  has  much  length,  till  it 
is  closed  perhaps  with  one  quarter  of  the  impulse  with 
which  it  commenced.  Then  the  speaker,  at  the  beginning 
of  a  new  sentence,  inflates  his  lungs,  and  pours  out  a  full 
volume  of  sound  for  a  few  words,  sliding  downward  again, 
as  on  an  inclined  plane,  to  a  feeble  close.  Besides  the 
effort  at  variety,  which  often  produces  this  fault,  it  is  in- 
creased in  many  cases,  by  that  labor  of  lungs,  and  that 
unskilfulness  in  managing  the  breath,  which  attends  want 
of  custom  in  speaking.  The  man  who  has  this  habit, 
(and  not  a  few  have  it,  as  any  one  would  perceive,  who 
should  place  himself  just  within  hearing  distance  of  twen- 


MODULATION. REMEDIES.  96 

ty  public  speakers,  successively,)  should  spare  no  pains 
to  overcome  it,  as  a  deadly  toe  to  vivacity  and  effect  in 
delivery. 

Sect.  2. — Remedies. 

The  measures  primarily  to  be  adopted  in  regard  to 
these  habits,  will  be  suggested  here,  while  others  that  have 
an  important  bearing  on  the  subject  will  come  into  view 
in  the  following  sections. 

To  find  an  adequate  remedy  for  any  of  the  above  de- 
fects in  modulation,  we  must  enter  into  the  elementary- 
principles  of  delivery.  As  the  meaning  of  what  we  read 
or  speak,  is  supposed  continually  to  vary,  that  elocution 
which  best  conforms  to  sense,  will  possess  the  greatest 
variety. 

1 .  The  most  indispensable  attainment  then,  towards 
the  cure  of  bad  habits  in  managing  the  voice,  is  the  spirit 
of  emphasis.  Suppose  a  student  of  elocution  to  have  a 
scholastic  tone,  or  some  other  of  the  faults  mentioned 
above  ; — teach  him  emphasis,  and  you  have  taken  the 
most  direct  way  to  remove  the  defect.  It  is  difficult  to 
give  a  particular  illustration  of  my  meaning,  except  by  the 
living  voice  ;  but  the  experiment  is  worthy  of  a  trial,  to  see 
if  the  faulty  manner  cannot  be  represented  to  the  eye. 
Read  the  following  passage  from  the  Spectator  ;*  recol- 
lecting, at  the  beginning  of  each  sentence,  to  strike  the 
words  in  the  largest  type,  with  a  high  and  full  voice,  grad- 
ually sinking  away  in  pitch  and  quantity,  as  the  type  di- 
minishes, to  the  close. 

*  No.  411. 


96  MODULATION. REMEDIES. 


EXAMPLE. 

OUR  SIGHT  IS  THE  MOST  PERFECT,  AND  most  DE- 
UGHTFUL,  OF  ALL  OUR  SENSES.  IT  FILLS  THE  MIND  WITH 
THE  LARGEST  VARIETY  OF  IDEAS,  CONVERSES  WITH  ITS 
OBJECTS  AT  THE  GREATEST  DISTANCE,  AND  CONTINUES  THB 
LONGEST    IN  ACTION    WITHOUT    BKIXG    TIRED    OR    SATIATED  WITH 

ITS  PROPER  ENJOYMENTS.  THE  SENSE  OF  FEELING  CAN  IN- 
DEED GIVE  us  A  NOTION  OP  EXTENSION,  SHAPE,  AND  ALL  OTHER 
IDEAS  THAT  ENTER  AT  THE  EYE,  EXCEPT  COLOURS,  AT  THE 
SAME  TIME,  IT  IS  VERY  MUCH  CONFINED  IN  ITS  OPERATIONS 
TO  THE  NUMBER,  BULK,  AND  DISTANCE  OF  ITS  PARTICULAR  OB- 
JECTS. 

If  Rhetoric  had  a  term,  something  like  the  diminuendo 
of  musicians,  it  might  help  to  designate  the  fault  here  re- 
presented, consisting  in  the  habit  of  striking  sentences 
with  a  high  and  strong  note,  for  a  few  words,  and  then 
falling  away  into  a  feeble  close. 

If  you  succeed  in  understanding  the  above  illustration, 
then  vary  the  trial  on  the  same  example,  with  a  view  to 
another  fault,  the  periodic  stress  and  tone.  Take  care 
to  speak,  the  words  printed  in  small  capitals  with  a  note 
sensibly  higher  and  stronger  than  the  rest,  dropping  the 
voice  immediately  after  these  elevated  words,  into  an  un- 
dulating tone,  on  the  following  syllables, — thus ; 

Our  sij^ht  is  the  most  perfect,  and  most  delightful  of  all  our 
senses.  It  fills  the  mind  with  the  largest  variety  of  ideas,  con- 
verses with  its  objects  at  the  greatest  distance,  and  continues  the 
longest  in  action  without  being  tired  or  satiated  with  its  proper 
enjoyments.  The  sense  of  feeling  can  indeed  give  us  a  notion  of 
extension,  shape,  and  all  other  ideas  that  enter  at  the  eye  ex- 


MODULATION. REMEDIES.  97 

cept  colours.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  very  much  confined  in  its 
operations,  to  the  number,  bulk  and  distance  of  its  particular  ob- 
jects.* 

It  is  necessary  now  to  give  this  same  passage  once 
more,  so  distinguishing  the  chief  words,  by  the  Italic  char- 
acter, as  to  exhibit  the  true  pronunciation. 

Our  sight  is  the  most  perfect  and  most  delightful  of  all  our  sen- 
ses. It  fills  the  mind  with  the  largest  variety  of  idtas  ;  converses 
with  its  objects  at  the  greatest  distance  ;  and  continues  the  longest 
in  action,  without  being  tired  or  satiated  with  its  proper  enjoy- 
ments. The  sense  o\  feeling  can  indeed  give  us  a  notion  o{  exteri' 
sion^  shdpe^  and  all  other  ideas  that  enter  at  the  eye,  except  colours. 
At  the  same  time  it  is  very  much  confined  in  its  operations,  to  the 
number^  bulk,  and  distance  of  its  particular  objects. 

Only  two  or  three  of  the  words  as  here  marked  require 
intensive  emphasis,  and  that  not  of  the  highest  kind  ;  and 
yet  the  student  will  perceive  that  a  discriminating  stress 
on  the  words  thus  marked,  will  regulate  the  voice,  of 
course,  as  to  all  the  rest ;  and  so  render  a  scholastic  tone 
impossible. 


*  Walker's  ear,  though  in  cases  of  emphatic  inflection,  very  dis- 
criminating, seems  in  other  cases  to  have  been  perverted  by  his  the- 
ory of  harmonic  inflection,  as  appears  from  his  manner  of  pronoun- 
cing the  following  couplet,  which  nearly  coincides  with  the  tone  I 
am  condemning. 

A  brave  man  struggling  in  the  storms  of  fate, 
And  greatly  falling,  with  a  falling  state. 

I  am  aware  that  it  is  difficult  to  represent  this  scholastic  tone  by 
any  description  to  the  eye.  One  who  is  acquainted  with  music 
may  readily  analyse  any  unseemly  tone,  by  examining  the  intervals 
of  the  notes  above  and  below  the  key  note  of  the  sentence,  in  the 
few  syllables  to  which  the  tone  is  confined.  This  analysis  would 
give  a  precision  to  his  knowledge  of  the  subject,  that  would  be 
valuable  in  practice.  The  hint  may  be  sufficient  to  those  who 
have  skill  and  patience  for  such  inquiries  ;  and  to  others,  any  ex- 
tended explanations  would  be  useless. 

9 


98  MODULATION. REMEDIES. 

But  as  no  word  in  the  foregoing  passage  is  strongly 
emphatic,  my  meaning  may  be  more  evident  from  an  ex- 
ample or  two,  where  a  discriminating  stress  on  a  single 
word,  determines  the  manner  in  which  the  following  words 
are  to  be  spoken. 

Take  this  couplet  from  Pope,  and  read  it  first  with 
the  metrical  accent  and  tone,  thus  ; 

What  the  weak  head,  with  strongest  bias  rules, 
Is  pride,  the  never  failing  vice  of  fools. 

Now  let  it  be  observed  that  in  these  lines  there  is 
really  but  one  emphatic  word,  namely  pride.  If  we  mark 
this  with  the  strong  emphasis,  and  the  falling  inflection, 
the  following  words  will  of  necessity  be  spoken  as  they 
should  be,  dropping  a  note  or  two  below  the  key  note  of 
the  sentence,^  and  proceeding  nearly  on  a  monotone  to 
the  end  ; — thus  ; — 

What  the  weak  head,  with  strongest  bias  roles. 

Is  ""■% 

the  never  failing  vice  of  fools. 

Another  example  may  help  to  render  this  more  in- 
telligible. 

Must  we  the  author  of  the  public  caldm^ 


Or  must  we  des    *^ 


the  author  of  the  public  calamities  ? 


•  By  key  note^  I  mean  the  prevailing  note,  that  which  you  hear 
when  a  man  reads  aloud  in  another  room,  while  you  cannot  dis- 
tinguish any  words  that  he  utters.  ^ 


MODULATION. REMEDIES.  99 

In  pronouncing  these  examples,  which  I  trust  need 
not  be  farther  explained,  some  trifling  diversities  might 
doubtless  be  observed  in  different  readers  of  equal  taste. 
But  if  the  proper  sound  is  given  to  the  emphatic  words, 
all  the  rest  must  be  spoken  essentially  as  here  described. 
It  follows  that  the  most  direct  means  of  curing  artificial 
tones,  is  to  acquire  a  correct  emphasis.     But, — 

2.  In  order  to  this,  another  attainment  seems  indis- 
pensable, namely,  some  good  degree  of  discrimination  as 
to  vocal  tones  and  inflections.  This  has  been  more  than 
once  adverted  to  in  the  foregoing  pages  ;  but  it  is  intro- 
duced here  as  inseparably  connected  with  a  just  modula- 
tion. That  correct  emphasis,  which  is  the  best  remedy 
for  perverted  habits  of  voice,  is  not  always  a  spontaneous 
attendant  on  good  sense  and  emotion.  Its  efficacy  is  of- 
ten frustrated  by  the  strength  of  those  habits  which  it  might 
overcome,  if  there  were  sufficient  knowledge  of  the  sub- 
ject to  apply  the  remedy. 

There  is  something  of  the  ludicrous  in  the  attempt  to 
imitate  unseemly  tones  in  speaking ;  and  those  who  are 
unpractised  in  it,  generally  feel  reluctant  to  make  the  at- 
tempt at  first,  especially  in  the  presence  of  others.  For 
the  same  reason  they  are  reluctant  to  have  their  own  faul- 
ty manner  in  reading  a  sentence  imitated,  or  to  repeat 
again  and  again  their  own  attempts  to  correct  it.  And 
some  who  can  imitate  a  sound,  immediately  after  hearing 
it  from  another  voice,  suppose  this  to  be  the  only  way  in 
which  it  can  be  done.  But  let  a  thousand  persons,  who 
understand  the  English  language,  repeat  the  familiar  ques- 
tion, "  Do  you  expect  to  go,  or  stay  ?" — And  will  not  ev- 
ery one  of  the  thousand  give  the  same  turn  of  voice  on 


100  MODULATION. REMEDltS. 

the  words  ia  Italics  ?  Where  is  the  difficulty  then  of 
placing  such  a  mark  on  these  turns  of  voice,  that  they 
may  be  transferred  to  any  other  word  ?  This  simple  prin- 
ciple suggested  to  Walker  his  notation  of  sounds  for  the 
eye  ;  and  incomplete  as  it  is,  something  of  the  kind  is  so 
necessary  to  the  student  of  elocution,  that,  without  it,  the 
aid  of  a  Hving  teacher  cannot  supply  the  defect.  And  in 
most  cases,  nothing  is  wanting  to  derive  advantage  from 
such  a  theory  but  a  little  patience  and  perseverance  in  its 
apphcation.* 

•  A  few  years  since,  I  desired  a  young  g;entleman  to  take  the  fol- 
lowing sentence ;  ''  I  tell  you  though  you,  though  all  the  world^ 
though  an  angel  from  heaven^  should  declare  the  truth  of  it,  I  could 
not  believe  it ;" — and  read  it  to  me  in  four  different  ways,  which  I 
described  to  him  in  writing,  without  making  with  ray  voice  any  of 
the  sounds  which  I  wished  him  to  represent.  My  directions  were 
these ; 

1.  Read  it  with  the  monotone. 

2.  Without  any  slide  on  the  emphatic  words,  raise  them  one 
note  above  the  key  tone  of  the  sentence,  and  read  the  rest  in  the 
monotone. 

3.  Give  the  emphatic  words  the  rising  slide  through  three  or 
four  notes  above  the  key,  and  end  with  the  common  cadence. 

4.  Give  the  same  words  the  falling  slide,  with  increase  of  force 
as  you  proceed  ;  beginning  the  slide,  on  you  one  note  above  the 
key,  that  on  world  two,  and  that  on  heaven  three. — The  young 
gentleman,  without  having  acquired,  so  far  as  I  knew,  any  uncom- 
mon skill  in  vocal  inflections,  at  the  appointed  time  repeated  the 
passage  according  to  my  directions,  and  almost  exactly  in  the  man- 
ner 1  had  intended.  The  last  mode  of  reading  is  that  which  I  des- 
cribed at  page  62  ;  and  the  other  three  modes  I  may  leave  without 
farther  elucidation  to  those  whohave  the  curiosity  to  engage  in  such 
an  exercise.  The  second  mode,  it  will  be  seen,  is  one  species  of 
what  is  often  called  the  conventicle  tone  ;  and  another  sort  of  this 
cant,  would  be  represented  by  reading  all  the  words  in  monotone  ex- 
cept the  parts  in  the  following  specimen  printed  in  Italic,  which 
should  be  raised  two  notes  above  the  key.  "  I  tell  you  though  you, 
though  all  the  world,  though  an  angel  from  heaven^  should  declare 
the  truth  of  it,  I  could  not  believe  it."  Such  an  exercise  might 
well  seem  trifling  in  a  man  of  elevated  views,  were  it  not  impor- 
tant to  bring  his  voice  under  discipline,  by  analysing  its  powers,  and 
that  for  the  purpose  of  correcting  his  own  faults  in  modulation. 


MODULATION. REMEDIES.  101 


It  was  my  intention  to  remark,  at  more  length  than 
my  limits  in  this  place  will  allow,  on  the  benefit  which  a 
public  speaker  may  derive  from  acquaintance  with  vocal 
music.  The  want  of  this  does  by  no  means  imply  a  cor- 
respondent deficiency  in  elocution.  There  have  been  or- 
ators who  had  no  skill  in  music.  And  constant  observation 
shows  that  a  man  may  be  a  fine  singer,  and  yet  be  no  orator. 
Vocal  organs  and  skill,  of  the  first  order,  he  may  possess, 
and  yet  have  neither  the  strength  nor  furniture  of  intel- 
lect, nor  the  high  moral  sensibility,  which  eloquence  de- 
mands. As  a  speaker,  he  may  fail  too  in  modulation  of 
voice,  so  as  not  even  to  read  well.  But  while  all  this 
is  admitted  we  must  say  of  this  good  singer  and  bad  read- 
er, what  we  cannot  always  say  of  another  man, — he  is 
utterly  without  excuse.  With  discriminating  ear,  and 
perfect  command  of  his  voice,  why  has  he  a  bad  modula- 
tion in  delivery  f  His  talent  is  hid  in  a  napkin  ; — he  is 
too  slothful  to  use  a  gift  of  his  Creator,  which  in  posses- 
sion of  another  man,  might  be  an  invaluable  treasure.  Par- 
adox as  it  may  seem,  it  is  only  the  plain  statement  of  a 
well  known  fact,  to  say,  that  many  a  man,  while  devoting 
ten  years  to  studies  preparatory  to  professional  life,  delib- 
erately looks  forward  to  his  main  business,  as  one  in  which 
his  success  and  usefulness  must  depend  on  his  talent  in 
speaking, — yet  takes  no  pains  to  speak  well !  Perhaps 
of  these  ten  years,  he  does  not  employ  one  entire  week  in 
all,  to  acquire  this  talent,  without  which  all  x)ther  acquisi- 
tions are,  to  his  purposes,  comparatively  useless  ! 

Without  any  enthusiastic  estimate  of  the  collateral  ad- 
vantages which  the  student  of  oratory  might  derive   from 
musical  skill,  it  may  be  said  that  the  same  strength,  dis- 
9^ 


102  MODULATION. REMEDIES. 

tinctness,  smoothness,  and  flexibility  of  voice,  which  mu- 
sic both  requires  and  promotes,  are  directly  subservient  to 
the  purposes  of  elocution.  And  at  least  so  much  practi- 
cal knowledge  of  music,  as  readily  to  mark  with  the  ear 
and  voice,  the  difference  between  high  and  low,  strong 
and  feeble  notes,  greatly  facilitates  that  analysis  of  speak- 
ing tones,  which  enables  one  to  understand  his  own  faults, 
and  to  make  such  a  sound,  in  a  given  case,  as  he  wishes 
to  make. 

I  might  add  here,  that  I  am  not  advancing  any  new 
theory  on  this  subject.  Quinctilian  devotes  a  chapter  to 
the  connexion  between  eloquence  and  music ;  and  advi- 
ses the  young  orator  to  study  this  latter  art,  as  an  impor- 
tant auxiliary  in  the  care  and  management  of  his  voice. 
And  a  spirited  French  writer,  speaking  of  bad  tones  in 
the  pulpit,  says,  ""  I  much  wish  that  young  preachers  would 
not  neglect  any  means  of  forming  their  voice  and  improv- 
ing their  ear  ;  for  which  purpose,  the  knowledge  and  prac- 
tice of  vocal  music,  would  be  very  useful  to  therfi." 

There  are  indeed  weighty  reasons,  not  applicable  to 
other  men,  why  they  who  are  devoted  to  the  sacred  of- 
fice should  cultivate  an  acquaintance  with  this  sacred, 
fine  art.  It  elevates  and  sanctifies  the  taste  of  a  Christian 
scholar.  It  prepares  the  minister  of  the  gospel  to  employ 
an  influence  in  regulating  the  taste  of  others  ;  an  influence 
that  shall  be  salutary,  and  becoming  his  office,  or  at  least, 
not  pernicious,  in  regard  to  the  style  of  music  that  is 
adapted  to  public  devotion.  Till  Christian  pastors  be- 
come generally  better  qualified  to  exert  such  an  influence, 
it  will  not  be  strange  if  this  department  of  public  worship 
shall  continue  in  the  hands  of  authors,  and  teachers,  and 


PITCH  OF  VOICE.  103 


performers,  who  will  so  conduct  its  solemn  services  as  to 
extinguish  rather  than  inspire  devotional  feeling.  Besides, 
the  minister  wl)o  knows  nothing  of  the  science  of  adapta- 
tion,  as  applied  to  music  and  poetry,  will  often  select 
hymns  so  unpoetical  that  they  cannot  possibly  be  sung 
with  discrimination  and  spirit ;  or  perhaps  a  hymn,  that  is 
full  of  inspiration,  he  will  read  with  so  little  feeling,  that  it 
will  almost  of  course  be  sung  in  a  manner  equally  inani- 
mate. 

Sect.  3. — Pitch  of  Voice, 

This  is  a  relative  modification  of  voice  ;  by  which  we 
mean  that  high  or  low  note,  which  prevails  in  speaking, 
and  which  has  a  governing  influence  upon  the  whole  scale 
of  notes  employed.  In  every  man's  voice,  this  governing 
note  varies  with  circumstances,  but  it  is  sufficiently  exact 
to  consider  it  as  threefold  ;  the  upper  pitch,  used  in  call- 
ing to  one  at  a  distance  ;  the  middle^  used  in  conversa- 
tion ;  and  the  lower,  used  in  cadence,  or  in  a  grave,  em- 
phatic under  key.  Exertion  of  voice  on  the  first,  exposes 
it  to  break  ;  and  on  the  last,  renders  articulation  thick  and 
difficult,  and  leaves  no  room  for  compass  below  the  pitch. 
The  middle  key,  or  that  which  we  spontaneously  adopt  in 
earnest  conversation,  allows  the  greatest  variety  and  ener- 
gy in  public  speaking,  though  this  will  be  raised  a  little  by 
the  excitement  of  addressing  an  assembly.  To  speak  on 
a  pitch  much  above  that  of  animated  conversation,  fatigues 
and  injures  the  lungs  ;  though  this,  of  all  mistakes,  is  the 
one  into  which  weak  lungs  are  most  likely  to  fall.  The 
speaker  tlien,  by  his  own  experiment,  or,  (if  he  w^ants  the 


104  PIfrCH  OF  VOICE. 


requisite  skill,)  by  the  aid  of  some  friend,  should  ascertain 
the  middle  key  of  his  own  voice,  and  make  that  the  basis 
of  his  delivery.  Whether  this  is  high  or  low,  compared 
with  that  of  another  man,  is  not  essential,  provided  it  be 
not  in  extreme.  Among  the  first  secular  orators  of  Bri- 
tain, some  have  spoken  on  the  grave,  bass-key  ;  while 
Pitt's  voice,  it  is  said,  was  a  full  tenor,  and  Fox's  a  tre- 
ble. 

The  voice  that  is  on  a  bass-key,  if  clear  and  well  ton- 
ed, has  some  advantages  in  point  of  dignity.  But  a  high 
tone,  uttered  with  the  same  effort  of  lungs,  is  more  audi- 
ble than  a  low  one.  Without  referring  to  other  proofs 
of  this,  the  fact  just  now  mentioned  is  sufficient,  that  we 
spontaneously  raise  our  key  in  calling  to  one  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  for  the  simple  reason  that  we  instinctively  know 
he  will  be  more  likely  to  hear  us  in  a  high  note  than  a 
low  one.  So  universal  is  this  instinct,  that  we  may  ob- 
serve it  in  very  little  children,  and  even  in  the  call  and 
response  of  the  parent  bird  and  her  young,  and  in  most 
brute  animals  that  have  voice.  The  same  principle  doubt- 
less explains  another  fact,  recently  alluded  to,  that  feeble 
lungs  are  inclined  to  a  high  pitch ;  this  being  the  effort 
of  weakness,  to  make  up  what  it  lacks  in  power,  by  eleva- 
tion of  key  ;  an  effort  which  succeeds  perfectly  for  a  few 
words,  but  produces  intolerable  fatigue  by  being  continu- 
ed. 

The  influence  of  emotion  on  the  voice,  is  also  among 
the  philosophical  considerations  pertaining  to  this  subject. 
A  man  under  strong  intellectual  excitement,  walks  with  a 
firmer  and  quicker  step  than  when  he  is  cool ;  and  the 
same  excitement  which  braces  the  muscles,  and  gives  en- 


PITCH  OF  VOICE.  105 


ergy  to  the  movements  of  the  body,  has  a  correspondent 
effect  on  the  movements  of  the  voice.  Earnestness  in 
common  conversation  assumes  a  higher  note,  as  it  pro- 
ceeds, though  the  person  addressed  is  at  no  greater  dis- 
tance than  before. 

A  practical  corollary  from  these  suggestions  is,  that 
the  public  speaker  should  avoid  a  high  pitchy  at  the  he- 
ginning  of  his  discourse,  lest  he  rise,  with  the  increase  of  in- 
terest, to  a  painful  and  unmanageable  elevation.  Through 
disregard  of  this  caution,  some  preachers,  of  warm  tem- 
perament, sacrifice  all  command  of  their  voice,  as  they  be- 
come animated,  and  rather  scream  than  speak.  Blair 
lays  it  down  as  a  useful  rule,  in  order  to  be  well  heard, 
— "  To  fix  our  eye  on  some  of  the  most  distant  persons 
in  the  assembly,  and  to  consider  ourselves  as  speaking  to 
them."  But  to  apply  this  rule  to  the  outset  of  a  discourse, 
would  probably  lead  nine  out  of  ten,  among  unpractised 
speakers,  to  err  by  adopting  too  high  a  pitch.  Walker, 
on  the  other  hand,  advises  to  commence, — "  as  though 
addressing  the  persons  who  are  nearest  to  us."  This 
might  lead  to  an  opposite  extreme ;  and  the  safest  gener- 
al course  perhaps,  is  to  adapt  the  pitch  to  hearers  at  a 
medium  distance. 

Hearers  are  apt  to  be  impatient,  if  a  speaker  compels 
them  to  listen;  though  they  more  readily  tolerate  this  fault 
at  the  beginning,  than  in  any  other  part  of  a  discourse. 
The  preacher  is  certainly  without  excuse  who  utters  his 
text  in  so  low  a  voice  as  not  to  be  understood,  and  the 
special  necessity  for  avoiding  this,  is  probably  a  sufficient 
reason  for  the  good  old  practice  of  naming  the  text  twice. 
But  for  a  few  sentences  of  the  exordium,  where  the  sen* 


106  Q^UANTITY. 


timent  commonly  requires  composure  and  simplicity,  it  is 
belter  to  be  scarcely  audible,  than  to  slum  this  inconve- 
nience by  running  into  vociferation.  The  proper  means  of 
avoiding  both  extremes,  is  to  learn  the  distinction  between 
force  and  elevation  ;  and  to  acquire  the  power  of  swelling 
the  voice  on  a  low  note.  This  introduces  our  next  topic 
of  consideration. 


Sect.   4. —  Quantity, 

This  term  I  use  not  in  the  restricted  sense  of  gram- 
marians and  prosodists,  but  as  including  both  the  fulness 
of  tone,  and  the  time,  in  which  words  and  sentences  are 
uttered.  With  this  explanation  I  hope  I  may  be  permit- 
ted to  use  the  term  in  a  sense  somewhat  peculiar,  without 
touching  the  endless  discussion  it  has  awakened  in  anoth- 
er department. 

In  theory,  perhaps  every  one  can  easily  understand, 
that  a  sound  may  be  either  loud  or  soft,  on  the  same  note. 
The  only  difference,  for  example,  betwixt  the  sound  pro- 
duced by  a  heavy  stroke  and  a  gende  one,  on  the  same 
bell,  is  in  the  quantity  or  momentum.  This  distinction 
as  applied  to  music,  is  perfectly  familiar  to  all  acquainted 
with  that  art.  As  applied  to  elocution,  however,  it  is  not 
so  easily  made ;  for  it  is  a  common  thing  for  speakers  to 
confound  high  sounds  with  loud,  and  low  with  soft. 
Hence  we  often  hear  it  remarked  of  one,  that  he  speaks 
in  a  low  voice,  when  the  meaning  is,  a  feeble  one ;  and 
perhaps  if  he  were  told  that  he  is  not  loud  enough,  he 
would  instantly  raise  bis  key,  instead  of  merely  increasing 
his  quantity  on  the  same  note.     But  skill  in  modulation 


QUANTITY.  107 


requires,  that  these  distinctions  should  be  practically  un- 
derstood. And  if  any  one,  who  has  given  no  attention  to 
this  point,  thinks  it  too  easy  to  demand  attention,  he  may 
be  better  satisfied  by  a  single  experiment.  Let  him  take 
this  line  of  Shakspeare, 

O,  you  hard  hearts,  you  cruel  men  of  Rome  .' 

and  read  it  first  in  a  voice  barely  audible.  Then  let  him 
read  it  again  and  again,  on  the  same  pitch,  doubling  his 
quantity  or  impulse  of  sound,  at  each  repetition,  and  he 
will  find  that  it  requires  great  care  and  management  to  do 
this,  without  raising  his  voice  to  a  higher  note. 

As  it  is  a  prime  requisite  in  a  public  speaker,  that  he 
be  heard  with  ease  and  pleasure,  the  importance  of  his 
being  able  to  swell  his  voice  to  a  loud  and  full  sound,  with- 
out raising  his  pitch,  must  be  apparent.  As  a  general 
rule,  that  voice  is  loud  enough,  which  perfectly  fills  the 
place  where  we  speak ;  or,  in  other  words,  which  perfect- 
ly reaches  the  hearers,  with  a  reserve  of  strength  to  en- 
force a  passage,  in  which  sentiment  demands  peculiar  en- 
ergy. 

The  inconvenience  of  a  feeble  voice  in  a  public  speaker 
is  great.  He  will  either  fail  to  be  heard  at  all,  or  will  be 
heard  with  so  much  difiiculty,  that  his  auditors  are  sub- 
jected to  the  drudgery  of  a  laborious  listening  to  spell  out 
his  meaning. 

Besides,  there  are  circumstances,  of  no  uncommon  oc- 
currence, by  which  this  inconvenience  is  specially  aggra- 
vated. Among  these  may  be  mentioned  the  injudicious 
structure  of  buildings,  the  chief  design  of  which  is  adap- 
tation to  public  speaking,  such  as  legislative  and  judicial 


108  QUANTITY. 


halls,  and  Christian  churches.  The  purpose  of  these 
buildings  is  sometimes  nearly  frustrated  by  immoderate 
iize;  by  extreme  height  of  the  ceiling;  and  in  churches 
particularly,  by  the  multiplication  of  ill-formed  arches,  so 
constructed  as  to  return  a  strong  broken  echo, — by  the 
bad  arrangement  of  galleries,  and  the  sounding-board, 
adjusted  close  to  the  speaker's  head. 

Sometimes  too,  even  the  secular  orator,  and  much  of- 
tener  the  preacher,  is  called  to  speak  in  the  open  air ;  or 
on  the  other  extreme,  to  speak  in  a  private  apartment,  so 
crowded  as  hardly  to  admit  of  free  respiration.  In  such 
cases  tlie  common  disadvantages  of  a  feeble  voice  are 
much  increased. 

If  the  inquiry  be  made,  on  what  does  strength  of  voice 
depend  f — 1  answer, 

First,  it  depends  primarily  on  perfect  organs  of  speech. 
As  it  is  important  for  the  professed  speaker  to  know  some- 
thing of  these  wonderful  organs,  with  the  preservation  and 
use  of  which  he  is  so  much  concerned,  a  brief  enumera- 
tion of  them  may  be  proper  here. 

Of  these,  the  lungs  have  the  first  place.  Mere  vigor 
in  this  organ,  is  not  of  course  attended  with  vocal  power, 
but  the  latter  cannot  exist  without  the  former.  Other 
things  being  equal,  he  who  has  the  best  conformation  of 
chest,  and  the  most  forcible  action  of  lungs,  will  have  the 
strongest  voice.  Fishes,  and  those  insects  that  have  no 
lungs,  have  no  voice. 

Next  is  the  trachea,  that  elastic  tube,  by  which  air  pas- 
ses to  and  from  the  lungs  ;  to  the  length  of  which  in  some 
^irds,  is  ascribed  the  uncommon  power  of  their  voice. 
At  the  upper  end  of  this,  is  the  larynx,  a  cartillaginous  box. 


QUANTITY.  109 


of  the  most  delicate,  vibratory  power,  so  suspended  by 
muscles  as  to  be  easily  elevated  or  depressed.  The^Zo^^w 
is  a  small  aperture,  (at  the  top  of  the  larynx,)  by  the  di- 
latation or  contraction  of  which,  sound  becomes  more  acute 
or  more  grave.  To  secure  this  aperture  from  injury, 
while  food  passes  over  it  to  the  stomach,  it  is  closed  by  a 
perfect  valve,  called  the  epiglottis. 

These  are  organs  of  sound,  but  not  of  speech,  without 
the  aid  of  others  adapted  to  articulation, — namely,  the 
tongue,  the  palate,  the  nostrils,  tke  lips  and  teeth.  My 
limits  do  not  allow  me  to  examine  minutely  the  wonderful 
adaptation  of  these  latter  organs  to  their  end,  nor  the  mode 
of  their  action  in  forming  articulate  sounds.  Such  an  ex- 
amination is  unnecessary  to  one  who  has  patience  to  make 
it  himself, — and  to  others,  it  would  be  useless. 

Secondly,  next  to  the  importance  of  good  organs,  m 
giving  strength  of  voice,  is  the  proper  exercise  of  these  or- 
gans. The  habit  of  speaking  gave  to  the  utterance  of 
Garrick  so  wonderful  an  energy,  that  even  his  under  key 
was  distinctly  audible  to  ten  thousand  people.  In  the  same 
way  the  French  missionary  Bridaine  brought  his  vocal 
powers  to  such  strength,  as  to  be  easily  heard  by  ten  thou- 
sand persons,  in  the  open  air  ;  and  twice  this  number  of  lis- 
tening auditors  were  sometimes  addressed  by  Whitefield. 
The  capacity  of  the  lungs  to  bear  the  effort  of  speaking 
with  a  full  impulse,  depends  much  on  their  being  accus- 
tomed to  it.  If  I  were  to  give  directions  to  the  student, 
as  to  the  means  of  strengthening  his  voice  by  exercise, 
they  would  be  such  as  these. 

(1)  Whenever  you  use  your  voice  on  common  occa- 
sions, use  as  much  voice,  as  propriety  will  permit.     The 

10 


110  QUANTITY. 


restriction  here  intended  must  be  applied  by  common 
sense. 

(2)  Read  aloud,  as  a  stated  exercise.  [See  3.  p.  31.] 
This  was  a  daily  practice  of  the  first  statesmen  and  gener- 
als of  Rome,  even  in  the  midst  of  campaigns,  and  public 
emergencies  ;  and  it  was  by  such  a  habit  of  reading  and 
declamation  in  private,  that  the  sons  of  these  men  were 
trained  to  a  bold  and  commanding  oratory.  An  erect,  and 
commonly  a  standing  posture,  in  such  exercises,  gives 
the  fullest  expansion  to  the  chest  and  lungs. 

(3)  In  public  speaking,  avoid  all  improper  efforts  of 
the  lungs.  These  arise  chiefly  from  speaking  on  too  high 
a  key,  a  fault  noticed  above  ;  from  extreme  anxiety  to 
accommodate  delivery  to  hearers  who  are  partially  deaf; 
and  from  attempts  to  go  through  a  long  discourse,  with 
such  a  degree  of  hoarseness  as  greatly  augments  the  la- 
bor of  the  lungs. 

Thirdly,  to  preserve  the  lungs,  and  give  strength  to 
the  vocal  powers,  it  is  necessary  to  avoid  those  habits  by 
which  public  speakers  are  often  injured  ; — such  as, 

(1 )  Bad  attitudes  of  study,  especially  of  writing,  which 
cramp  the  chest  and  obstruct  the  vital  functions. 

(2)  Late  preparations,  by  which  the  effort  of  public 
delivery  immediately  succeeds  the  exhaustion  of  intense 
and  long  continued  study. 

(3)  Full  meals  immediately  before,  and  stimulating 
drinks  immediately  before  or  after  speaking. 

(4)  Inhaling  cold  air  by  conversation,  and  sudden 
change  of  temperature,  when  the  lungs  are  heated  by 
speaking. 

There   is   one   general  precaution,  I  may  add,   that 


QUANTITY.  1 1 1 


comprises  and  in  some  measure  supersedes  all  others  on 
this  subject,  namely,  that  strength  of  the  vocal  powers  is 
to  be  promoted  only  by  sustaining  the  general  vigor  of  the 
constitution.  The  fatal  prevalence  of  pulmonary  disease, 
among  literary  men,  especially  ministers  of  the  gospel,  is 
commonly  ascribed  to  their  peculiar  labors  in  public 
speaking.  But  with  much  more  reason  might  it  be  as- 
cribed, chiefly,  to  their  habits  as  men  of  study.  The  gen- 
eral intelligence  and  spirit  of  the  age  render  high  acquisi- 
tions and  efforts  indispensable,  in  order  to  distinguished  use- 
fulness. Years  of  preparatory  study,  devoted  to  intense 
reading  and  thought,  often  impair  the  tone  of  health,  so 
that  ihe  superaddition  of  professional  exertions  soon  fin- 
ishes the  work  of  prostration.  The  young  preacher,  of 
ardent  feelings,  is  eminently  in  danger  of  falling  an  early 
victim  to  the  combined  influence  of  these  causes.  Be- 
sides the  weekly  composition  of  sermons,  a  labor  that  has 
no  parallel  in  any  other  profession,  an  accumulation  of 
pastoral  duties,  new,  and  vast  in  importance,  press  him 
down  from  day  to  day,  till  he  sinks,  under  this  load  of  du- 
ties, into  the  grave  ;  or  drags  on  the  precarious  existence 
of  an  invalid,  with  broken  lungs,  and  emaciated  frame. 

Now  the  case  is  summed  up  in  a  few  words.  The 
public  speaker  needs  a  pow^erful  voice.  The  quantity  of 
voice  which  he  can  employ,  at  least,  can  employ  with  safe- 
ty, depends  on  his  strength  of  lungs  ;  and  this  again  de- 
pends on  a  sound  state  of  general  health.  If  he  neglects 
this,  all  other  precautions  will  be  useless.^ 

*  The  foregoing  suggestions  on  strength  of  voice,  are  only  an 
outline  of  the  more  particular  and  extended  illustration  given  to 
this  part  of  the  subject  in  my  Lectures  on  Delivery, 


112  ^UANTITT. 


So  much  for  this  part  of  rhetorical  modulation,  in  which 
a  just  quantity  requires,  that  the  impulse  or  momentum  of 
roice  be  accommodated  to  sentiment,  from  the  whisper 
of  the  fire-side,  designed  only  for  one  hearer,  to  the  thun- 
der of  Bridaine,  addressing  his  ten  thousand. 

But  besides  strong  and  feeble  tones,  as  belonging  to 
quantity,  it  includes  also  a  proper  regard  to  time.  This 
respects  single  words,  clauses,  and  sentences.  No  varie- 
ty of  tones  could  produce  the  thrilling  effects  of  music,  if 
every  note  were  a  semibreve.  So  in  elocution,  if  every 
word  and  syllable  were  uttered  with  the  same  length,  the 
uniformity  would  be  as  intolerable  as  the  worst  monotony. 
This  is  illustrated  in  the  line,  which  Pope  framed  purpose- 
ly, to  represent  a  heavy  movement ; — 

And  ten  low  words  oft  creep  in  one  dull  line. 

The  quantity  demanded  on  each  of  these  monosyllabic 
Words,  renders  fluency  in  pronunciation  quite  impractica- 
ble. On  the  other  hand,  in  a  line  of  poetry,  which  has  a 
regular  return  of  accent  on  every  second  or  third  syllable, 
we  find  a  metrical  pronunciation,  so  spontaneously  adopt- 
ed, as  often  to  require  much  caution,  not  to  sacrifice  sense 
to  harmony.  Some,  I  am  aware,  maintain  the  theory  that 
prose,  in  order  to  be  well  delivered,  must  be  reduced, 
mentally  at  least,  into  feet.  But  he  must  be  little  less 
than  a  magician,  who  can  break  into  the  measure  of  proso- 
dy such  a  sentence  as  this  ; — "  The  Trinity  is  a  mystery 
which  we  unhesitatingly  believe  the  truth  of,  and  with  hu- 
mility adore  the  depth  of." 

The  easy  flow  of  delivery  requires  that  particles,  and 
subordinate  syllables,  should  be  touched  as  lightly,  as  is 


QUANTlTr.  W         ^  113 


(viii 


consistent  with  distinctness;  while  both  sentiment  and 
harmony  demand,  that  the  voice  should  throw  an  increase 
of  quantity  upon  important  words,  by  resting  on  them,  or 
by  swell  and  protraction  of  sound,  or  both.  Thus  while 
pitch  relates  only  to  the  variety  of  notes,  as  high  or  low, 
that  of  quantity  is  twofold  ;  namely,  the  variety  oiimpulse, 
as  loud  or  soft,  and  the  variety  of  time,  as  qvick  or  slow. 
The  martial  music  of  the  drum  has  no  change  of  notes,  as 
to  tune,  being  dependent  wholly  on  quantity  ;  and  there- 
fore has  much  less  vivacity  than  the  fife,  which  combines 
the  varieties  of  tune,  and  impulse,  as  well  as  time.  The 
amount  of  all  these  remarks  is,  that  he  whose  voice  ha- 
bitually prolongs  short  syllables,  and  such  words  as  and, 
from,  to,  the,  he,  must  be  a  heavy  speaker. 

But  time  in  elocution,  has  a  larger  application  than 
that  which  respects  words  and  clauses,  I  mean  that  which 
respects  the  general  rate  of  delivery.  In  this  case,  it  is 
not  practicable,  as  in  music,  nor  perhaps  desirable,  to  es- 
tablish a  fixed  standard,  to  which  every  reader  or  speak- 
er shall  conform.  The  habits  of  different  men  may  differ 
considerably  in  rate  of  utterance,  without  being  chargea- 
ble with  fault.  But  I  refer  rather  to  the  difference  which 
emotion  will  produce,  in  the  rate  of  the  same  individual. 
I  have  said  before,  that  those  passions  which  quicken  or 
retard  a  man's  step  in  walking,  will  produce  a  similar  ef- 
fect on  his  voice  in  speaking.  Narration  is  equable  and 
flowing  ;  vehemence,  firm  and  accelerated  ;  anger  and 
joy,  rapid.  Whereas  dignity,  authority,  sublimity,  awe, 
— assume  deeper  tones,  and  a  slower  movement.  Ac- 
cordingly we  sometimes  hear  a  good  reader  or  speaker, 
when  there  is  some  sudden  turn  of  thought,  check  himself 
10* 


114  RHETORICAL  PAUSE. 

in  the  full  current  of  utterance,  and  give  indescribable 
power  to  a  sentence,  or  part  of  a  sentence,  by  dropping 
his  voice,  and  adopting  a  slow,  full  pronunciation. 

Sect.  5. — Rhetorical  Pause. 

This  has  a  very  intimate  relation  to  the  subject  of  the 
foregoing  section.  As  quantity  in  music,  may  consist 
partly  of  rests,  so  it  is  in  elocution.  A  suspension  of  the 
voice,  of  proper  length,  and  at  proper  intervals,  is  so  in- 
dispensable, that,  without  this,  sentiment  cannot  be  expres- 
sed impressively,  nor  even  intelligibly,  by  oral  language. 
In  delivery  indeed,  these  suspensions  of  sound  are  ac- 
companied by  other  and  surer  marks  of  their  signifi- 
cance, than  mere  time  ;  as  the  whole  doctrine  of  vocal  in- 
flections implies.  They  are  combined  with  appropriate 
notes  of  the  voice,  which  declare  at  the  instant,  whether 
the  sense  is  to  be  continued  in  the  same  sentence  ; — when 
the  sentence  is  declarative,  and  when  interrogative  ;  when 
it  is  finished  ;  and  in  general,  whether  it  expresses  sim- 
ple thought,  or  thought  modified  by  emotion.  According- 
ly, rhetorical  punctuation  has  a  few  marks  of  its  own,  as 
the  point  of  interrogation,  and  of  admiration,  the  parenthe- 
sis, and  the  hyphen,  all  of  which  denote  no  grammatical 
relation,  and  have  no  established  length.  And  there  is 
no  good  reason,  if  such  marks  are  used  at  all,  why  they 
should  not  be  rendered  more  adequate  to  their  purpose. 

The  interrogative  mark,  for  example,  is  used  to  de- 
note, not  length  of  pause,  but  appropriate  modification  of 
voice,  at  the  end  of  a  question.  But  it  happens  that  this 
one  mark,  as  now  used,  represents  two  things,  that  are 


RHETORICAL  PAUSE.  1 1  5 

exactly  contrary  to  each  other.  When  the  child  is  taught, 
as  he  still  is  in  many  schools,  to  raise  his  voice  in  finish- 
ing a  question,  he  finds  it  easy  to  do  so  in  a  case  like  this, 
— "  Will  you  go  to  day  ?', — "  Are  they  Hebrews  V  But 
when  he  comes  to  the  indirect  question,  not  answered  by 
yes,  or  no,  his  instinct  rebels  against  the  rule,  and  he  spon- 
taneously reads  with  the  falling  slide, — "  Why  are  you 
silent  ?  Why  do  you  prevaricate  ?"  Now,  in  this  latter 
case,  if  the  usual  mark  of  interrogation  were  inverted,  (j) 
when  its  office  is  to  turn  the  voice  downward,  it  would  be 
discriminating  and  significant  of  its  design.  Nor  would 
this  discrimination  require  rhetorical  skill  in  a  printer.  It 
would  give  him  far  less  difficulty,  than  to  learn  the  gram- 
matical use  of  the  semicolon.  The  same  remarks  apply 
to  the  note  of  exclamation. 

As  to  the  adjustment  of  pauses,  to  allow  the  speaker 
opportunity  for  drawing  his  breath,  the  difficulty  seems  to 
have  been  much  overrated  by  writers  and  teachers.  From 
my  own  experience  and  observation,  I  am  inclined  to 
think  that  no  directions  are  needed  on  this  point,  and  that 
the  surest  way  to  make  even  the  youngest  pupil  breathe 
at  the  proper  time,  is  to  let  him  alone. 

For  the  sake  of  those  who  feel  any  apprehension  on 
this  subject,  it  may  be  proper  to  say,  that  the  opportuni- 
ties for  taking  breath,  in  the  common  current  of  delivery, 
are  much  more  frequent  than  one  might  suppose,  who  has 
not  attended  to  this  matter.  There  is  no  grammatical  re- 
lation of  words  so  close,  as  utterly  to  refuse  a  pause  be- 
tween them,  except  the  article  and  noun,  the  preposition 
and  noun,  and  the  adjective  and  noun  in  their  natural  or- 
der. 


116  RHETORICAL  PAUSE. 


Supposing  the  student  to  be  already  familiar  with  the 
common  doctrine  of  punctuation,  it  is  not  my  design  to 
discuss  it  here  ;  nor  even  to  dwell  upon  the  distinction  be- 
tween grammatical  and  rhetorical  pauses.  All  that  is 
necessary,  is  to  remark  distinctly,  that  visible  punctuation 
cannot  be  regarded  as  a  perfect  guide  to  quantity,  any 
more  than  to  inflections.  Often  the  voice  must  rest,  where 
no  pause  is  allowed  in  grammar  ;  especially  does  this  hap- 
pen, when  the  speaker  would  fix  attention  on  a  single 
word,  that  stands  as  immediate  nominative  to  a  verb.  A 
few  examples  may  make  this  evident. 

Industry  is  the  g^uardian  of  innocence.  ^ 

Prosperity  ^ains  friends,  adversity  tries  them. 

* 
Some  place  the  bliss  in  action,  some  in  ease  ; 

Tkose  call  it  pleasure,  and  contentment  these. 

Mirth  I  consider  as  an  act,  cheerfulness  as  a  habit  of  the  mind. 
Mirth  is  short  and  transient,  cheerfulness  fixed  and  permanent. 
Mirth  is  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  that  glitters  for  a  moment  ;  cheer- 
fulness keeps  up  a  kind  of  day-light  in  the  mind. 

Here  the  words  in  Italic  take  no  visible  pause  after 
Aem,  without  violence  to  grammatical  relation.  But  the 
tar  demands  a  pause  after  each  of  these  words,  which  no 
good  reader  will  fail  to  observe. 

The  same  principle  extends  to  the  length  of  pauses. 
The  comma,  when  it  simply  marks  grammatical  relation, 
is  very  short,  as  "  He  took  with  him  Peter,  and  James, 
and  John,  his  disciples."  But  when  the  comma  is  used 
in  language  of  emotion,  though  it  is  the  same  pause  to  the 
eye,  it  may  suspend  the  voice  much  longer  than  in  the 


RHETORICAL  PAUSE.  117 


former  case  ^  as  in  the  solemn  and  deliberate  call  to  at- 
tention ; — "  Men,  brethren,  and  fathers,  hearken."* 

This  leads  me  to  the  chief  point,  which  I  had  in  view 
under  this  head,  the  emphatic  pause,  Garrick  employed 
this  on  the  stage,  and  Whitefield  in  the  pulpit,  with 
great  effect.  It  occurs  sometimes  before,  but  commonly 
after  a  striking  thought  is  uttered,  which  the  speaker  thus 
presents  to  the  hearers,  as  worthy  special  attention,  and 
which,  he  seems  confidently  to  expect,  will  command  as- 
sent, and  be  fixed  in  the  memory,  by  a  moment  of  unin- 
terrupted reflection.  More  commonly,  such  a  thought  as 
admits  the  emphatic  pause,  drops  the  voice  to  a  grave 
under-key,  in  the  manner  described  at  the  close  of  the 
last  article.  Sometimes  it  breaks  out  in  the  figure  of  in- 
terrogation, with  a  higher  note,  and  the  eye  fixed  on  some 
single  hearer.  To  produce  its  proper  effect,  it  must 
spring  from  such  reality  of  feeling  as  defies  all  cold  imita- 
tion ;  and  this  feeling  never  fails  to  produce,  while  the 
voice  is  suspended  on  the  emphatic  pause,  a  correspondent 
significance  of  expression  in  the  countenance. 

There  is  still  another  pause,  so  important  in  delivery, 
as  to  deserve  a  brief  notice  ;  I  mean  that  with  which  a 


♦  The  rhetorical  pause  is  as  appropriate  in  inasic  as  in  elocution. 
In  this  respect,  a  skilful  composer  always  conforms  to  sentiment,  in 
a  set  piece.  In  metrical  psalmody,  though  this  adaptation  cannot 
be  made  by  the  wfiter  of  the  tune,  it  on»ht  to  be  made,  in  somd 
good  decree,  by  the  performers.  Instead  of  a  tame  subserviency 
to  arbitrary  quantity,  they  may  often,  with  powerful  effect,  insert 
or  omit  a  pause,  as  sentiment  demands.  I  have  scarcely  ever  felt 
the  influence  of  mu^ic  more,  than  in  one  or  two  cases  where  the 
stanzas,  being  hig^hly  rhetorical,  were  divided  only  by  a  comma, 
and  the  choir  spontaneously  rushed  over  the  musical  pause  at  the 
end  of  the  tune,  and  beg;an  it  anew,  from  the  impulse  of  emotion. 
See  example,  Watts,  Book  i.  Hyma  3,  6  and? — 8  and  9  stanzas. 


118  RHETORICAL  PAUSE. 

good  speaker  marks  the  close  of  a  paragraph^  or  division 
of  a  discourse.  The  attempt  to  keep  up  an  assembly  to 
one  pitch  of  interest,  and  that  by  one  unremitted  strain  of 
address,  is  a  great  mistake,  though  a  very  common  one, 
as  it  respects  both  the  composition  and  the  delivery  of  a 
discourse.  It  results  from  principles  with  which  every 
public  speaker  ought  to  be  acquainted,  that  high  excite- 
ment cannot  be  sustained  for  a  long  time.  He  who  has 
skill  enough  to  kindle  in  his  hearers,  the  same  glow  which 
animates  himself,  while  he  exhibits  some  vivid  argument 
or  illustration,  will  suffer  them  to  relax,  when  he  has  fin- 
ished that  topic ;  and  will  enter  on  a  new  one,  with  a  more 
familiar  tone  of  voice,  and  after  such  a  pause,  as  prepares 
them  to  accompany  him  with  renewed  satisfaction. 

It  may  be  remarked  in  passing,  that  when  the  voice 
has  outrun  itself,  and  reached  too  high  a  pitch,  one  of 
these  paragraph-rests  affords  the  best  opportunity  to  re- 
sume the  proper  key. 


24]     Sect.  6. — Compass  of  voice. 

It  may  be  thought  that  what  has  been  said  already, 
concerning  high  and  low  notes,  is  sufficient,  on  this  part  of 
modulation.  My  remarks  on  pitch,  however,  related 
chiefly  to  the  predominant  note  which  one  employs  in  a 
given  case ;  whereas  I  now  refer  to  the  range  of  notes, 
above  and  below  this  governing  or  natural  key,  which  are 
required  by  a  spirited  and  diversified  delivery. 

Sometimes  from  inveterate  habit,  and  sometimes  from 
incapacity  of  the  organs,  the  voice  has  a  strong,  clear  bot- 


COMPASS  OF  VOICE.  119 

torn,  without  any  compass  upwards.  In  other  cases,  it 
has  a  good  top,  but  no  compass  below  its  key.  Extreme 
instances  to  the  contrary  there  may  be,  but  commonly,  I 
have  no  doubt  that  when  a  speaker  uses  only  a  note  or 
two,  above  and  below  the  key,  it  arises  from  habit,  and  not 
from  organic  defect.  Few  indeed  have,  or  could  by  any 
means  acquire,  the  versatility  of  vocal  power,  by  which 
Whitefield  could  imitate  the  tones  of  the  female  or  the  in- 
fant voice,  at  one  time,  and  at  another,  strike  his  hearers 
with  awe,  by  the  thundering  note  of  his  under  key.  Nor 
is  this  power  essential  to  an  interesting  delivery.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  are  few,  if  any,  who  could  not,  by  pro- 
per pains  in  cultivating  the  voice,  give  it  all  the  compass 
which  is  requisite  to  grave  and  dignified  oratory. 

As  1  cannot  dwell  on  this  point,  it  may  be  useful  to 
say  briefly,  that  when  the  voice  of  the  young  speaker  is 
found  to  be  wanting  in  compass,  I  would  advise  him,  in 
the  first  place,  to  try  an  experiment,  similar  to  that  which 
was  suggested,  p.  107,  for  increasing  strength  or  loudness 
of  sound,  without  change  of  key.  Suppose  he  takes  the 
same  line ; 

O,  you  hard  hearts,  you  cruel  men  of  Rome  ! 

and  reads  it  first  on  the  lowest  note,  on  which  he  can  ar- 
ticulate. Then  let  him  repeat  it  a  note  higher,  and  so  on, 
till  he  reaches  the  highest  note  of  his  voice.  His  com- 
pass being  ascertained,  by  such  an  experiment,  on  a  few 
words,  he  may  then  practise  reading  passages  of  some 
length,  on  that  part  of  his  voice  which  he  especially  wish- 
es to  improve ;  taking  care,  in  this  more  protracted  exer- 
cise, not  to  pitch  on  the  extreme  note  of  his  voice,  either 


120  TRANSITION. 


way,  so  far  as  to  preclude  some  variety  above  or  below, 
to  correspond  with  natural  delivery. 

In  the  second  place,  I  would  advise  him  to  read  pas- 
sages where  the  sentiment  and  style  are  specially  adapted 
to  the  purpose  he  has  in  view.  If  he  wishes  to  cultivate 
the  bottom  of  his  voice,  selections  from  narrative  or  didac* 
tic  composition  may  be  made,  which  will  allow  him  to  be- 
gin a  new  sentence,  in  a  note  nearly  as  low,  as  that  in  which 
he  finished  the  preceding.  Or  he  may  take  passages  of 
poetry,  in  which  the  simile  occurs,  a  figure  that  generally 
requires  a  low  and  equable  movement  of  voice. . 

If  he  wishes  to  increase  his  compass  on  the  higher 
notes,  let  him  choose  passages  in  which  spirited  emotion 
prevails  ;  especially  such  as  have  a  succession  of  interrog- 
ative sentences.  These  will  incline  the  voice,  spontane- 
ously, to  adopt  thoseel  evated  tones  on  which  he  wishes  to 
cultivate  its  strength.  Instead  of  giving  examples  here,  to 
illustrate  these  principles,  I  refer  the  reader  to  Exercises, 
[24]  where  a  few  selections  are  made  for  this  purpose. 

25]     Sect.  7. — Transition. 

By  this  I  mean  those  sudden  changes  of  voice  which 
often  occur  in  delivery.  This  article,  and  those  which  fol- 
low upon  modulation,  are  chiefly  intended  to  combine  and 
apply  the  principles  of  the  preceding  sections.  The 
whole  object  is,  to  elucidate  that  one,  standing  law  of  de- 
livery, that  vocal  tones  should  correspond,  in  variety,  with 
sentiment ;  in  contradistinction  from  monotony,  and  from 
that  variety  which  is  either  accidental  or  mechanical.     In 


TRANSITION.  121 


this  spontaneous  coincidence,  by  which  the  voice  changes 
its  elevation,  rate,  strength,  &;c.  in  conformity  with  emo- 
tion, consists  that  excellence  which  is  universally  felt  and 
admired,  in  the  manner  of  a  good  speaker. 

To  designate  these  changes,  besides  the  rhetorical 
marks  already  employed  to  denote  inflections,  it  will  be 
necessary  to  adopt  several  new  ones  ;  and  the  following 
may  answer  the  purpose;  signifying  that  the  voice  is  to 
be  modified,  in  reading  what  follows  the  marks  respective- 
ly, thus  : — 

(  °  )  high.  (  ,  )  low. 

(  ®°  )  high  and  loud.  (  ^^ )  low  and  loud. 

(  •'  )  slow.  ( II  )  rhetorical  pause. 

In  respect  to  the  four  first,  when  one  of  them  occurs, 
it  must  be  left  to  the  reader's  taste  to  determine  how  far 
its  influence  extends  in  what  follows.  In  respect  to  this 
mark  ( •• )  it  may  be  used  to  signify  a  considerable  pro- 
traction of  sound  on  that  syllable,  which  precedes  it,  and 
then  it  will  be  inserted  in  the  course  of  the  Jine,  without 
brackets. 

EXAMPLES. 
Heaven  and  earth  will  witness, 


If  Rome  ••  must  ••  fall  ••  that  we  are  innocent. 

Thus  these  two, 

Imparadis'd  in  one  another's  arms, 
The  happier  Eden,  shall  enjoy 


while  1  to  H£LL  ••  am  thrust. 


When  the  same  mark  is  designed  to  signify  that  a  pas- 
sage is  to  be  uttered  with  a  slow  rate,  it  will  be  inserted 
thus  ( .. )  where  that  passage  begins, — the  extent  of  its  in- 
fluence being  left  to  the  reader's  taste  ;  or  it  may  be  cora- 
11 


122  TRANSITION. 


bined  with  another  mark,  thus,  (  q  )  which  would  signify 
low  and  slow. 

I  beg  leave  to  add,  that  as  the  utility  of  this  notation 
may  be  doubted  by  some,  and  as  I  am  not  sanguine  re- 
specting it  myself,  it  is  suggested  only  as  an  experiment, 
on  a  most  difficult  branch  of  elocution.  If  applied  with 
judgment,  it  may  be  useful ;  and  it  will  at  least  be  harm- 
less to  those  who  choose  to  pass  it  by.^ 

I  proceed  now  to  explain  myself  more  fully  on  the 
subject  of  vocal  transition,  admonishing  the  reader,  that, 
in  the  examples,  and  in  the  Exercises,  a  word  in  Italic  has 
the  common  emphasis,  while  small  capitals  are  occasion- 
ally used  to  denote  a  still  more  intensive  stress. 

Any  one  who  has  a  good  command  of  his  voice,  can 
use  it  with  a  higher  or  lower,  a  stronger  or  feebler  note, 
at  pleasure.  This  distinction  is  perfectly  made,  (as  I 
have  said  before,)  even  by  a  child,  in  speaking  to  one  who 
is  near,  and  to  one  who  is  distant.  In  rhetorical  reading, 
when  we  pass  from  simple  narrative  to  direct  address, 
especially  when  the  address  is  to  distant  persons,  a  cor- 
respondent transition  of  voice  is  demanded.  Many  ex- 
amples of  this  sort  may  be  found  in  the  Paradise  Lost^ 
from  which  the  following  are  selected  : 


■The  cherubim, 


Forth  issuing"  at  the  accustom M  hour,  stood  arm'd 
To  their  night  watches,  in  warlike  parade, 
When  Gabriel  to  his  next  in  pow'r  thus  spake. 
(o<^)  Uzziel !  II  half  these  draw  off,  and  coast  the  south, 
With  strictest  watch  ; —these  other,  ||  wheel  the  north 
Our  circuit  meets  full  west. 


*  8iDce  the  first  edition  web  published,  I  have  become  satisfied  that  no  part  of 
the  book  is  more  adapted  to  be  useful  than  this. 


TRANSITION.  123 


Every  reader  of  taste  will  perceive,  that  the  three  last 
lines,  ill  this  case,  must  be  spoken  in  a  much  bolder  and 
higher  voice  than  the  preceding. 

Another  fine  example  may  be  seen  in  the  sublime 
description  of  Satan,  which  ends  with  a  speech  to  his  asso- 
ciates, full  of  authority  and  reprehension.  It  is  so  long, 
that  1  shall  give  only  parts  of  it,  sufficient  to  show  the 
transition. 

( ..  )He  scarce  had  ceas'd,  when  the  superior  fiend 

Was  moving  tow'rd  the  shore  ;  his  pondVous  shield. 
Ethereal  temper,  massy,  larg-e,  and  round, 
Behind  him  cast ;  the  broad  circumference 


Hung^  on  his  shoulders  like  the  moon. 


-on  the  beach 


Of  that  inflamed  sea  he  stood,  \\  and  calPd 

His  legions,  angel  forms  ;— — 

He  call'd  so  loud,  that  all  the  hollow  deep 

Of  hell  ••  resounded.     (°*^)  Princes, — Potentdles^ 

Wa'rriors  !  II  the  flow'r  of  heav'n,  once  yours,  now  lost  -^ 

If  such  astonishment  as  this  can  seize 

Eternal  spirits. 

Here  again,  where  the  thought  changes,  from  descrip-f 
lion  to  vehement  address,  to  continue  the  voice  in  the 
simple  tones  of  narrative,  would  be  intolerably  tame.  It 
should  rise  to  a  higher  and  firmer  utterance,  on  the  pas- 
sage beginning  with,  "  Princes^ — poientatesy'^  &tc. 

In  these  cases,  the  change  required  consists  chiefly  in 
key  and  quantity.  But  there  are  other  cases,  in  w^iicli 
these  may  be  included,  while  the  change  consists  also  m 
the  qualities  of  the  voice. 


124  TRANSITION. 


It  was  remarked  [10]  p.  54,  that  tender  emotions, 
such  as  pity  and  grief,  incline  the  voice  to  gentle  tones, 
and  the  rising  slide  ;  while  emotions  of  joy,  sublimity,  au- 
thority &LC.  conform  the  tones  to  their  own  character  res- 
pectively. It  is  where  this  diflerence  of  emotion  occurs 
in  the  same  connexion,  that  the  change  I  have  mentioned 
in  the  quality  of  voice,  is  demanded,  analagous  to  the 
difference  between  plaintive  and  spirited  expression,  or 
piano  Qnd  forte,  in  music.  To  illustrate  this  I  select  two 
stanzas  from  a  hymn  of  Watts,  and  two  from  a  psalm  ; 
one  being  pathetic  and  reverential,  the  other  animated  and 
lively.  These  stanzas  I  arrange  alternately,  so  as  to  ex- 
hibit the  alternation  of  voice  required  by  sentiment."^ 

(**)  Alas  !  and  did  my  Savior  bl^ed  ? 
And  did  my  Sovereign  die  ? 
Would  he  devote  that  sacred  head, 
For  such  a  worm  as  'I  ? 

(<>®)  Joy  to  the  world  I — the  Lord  is  come  ! 
Let  earth  receive  her  king  ; 


Let  every  heart  prepare  him  room. 
And  heav'n  and  nature  sins:. 


'O" 


(o)  Was  it  for  crimes  that  /  had  done, 
He  groan'd  upon  the  tr^e  ? 
Amazing  pity  !  grace  unknown  ! 
And  love  ||  beyond  degree  ! 

(****)  Joy  to  the  earth  !  the  Savior  reigns  ? 
Let  men  their  songs  employ  ; 
While  fields  and  floods,  rocks,  hills,  and  plains, 
Repeat  the  sounding  joy. 


*  In  the  first  and  third,  the  voice  should  be  plaintive  and  soft 
as  well  as  high. 


EXPRESSION.  152 


In  the  following  example,  we  see  Satan  lamenting  his 
loss  of  heaven,  and  then  in  the  dignity  of  a  fell  despair, 
invoking  the  infernal  world.  In  reading  this,  when  the 
apostrophe  changes,  the  voice  should  drop  from  the  tones 
of  lamentation,  which  are  high  and  soft,  to  those  v;hich 
are  deep  and  strong,  on  the  words,  "  Hail,  horrors,"  &c. 

(**)  Is  this  the  region,  this  the  soil,  the  clime, 
Said  then  the  lost  archan;^el,  this  the  seat, 
That  we  must  change  for  heav'n  ?  This  mournful  g;loom  || 

For  that  celestial  light  ? 

Farewell,  happy  fields, 
Where  joy  forever  dwells,     (qq)  Hail,  horrors  !  HaiL, 
Infernal  world  !  And  thou, ..  profoundest  hell^  •• 
Receive  thy  new  possessor  !  one  who  brings 
A  mind,  not  to  be  changed  by  place  or  time. 

26]    Sect.  8. — Expression. 

This  term  I  use,  in  rather  a  limited  sense,  to  denote 
the  proper  influence  of  reverential  and  pathetic  sentiment 
on  the  voice.  A  partial  illustration  of  this  has  been  given 
in  the  foregoing  section,  but  its  importance  calls  for  some 
additional  remarks. 

There  is  a  modification  of  voice,  which  accompanies 
awakened  sensibility  of  soul,  that  is  more  easily  felt  than 
desciibed  ;  and  this  constitutes  the  unction  of  delivery. 
Without  this,  thoughts  that  should  impress,  attract,  or 
soothe  the  mind,  often  become  repulsive.  I  have  heard 
the  language  of  our  Lord,  at  the  institution  of  the  sacra- 
mental supper,  read  with  just  those  falling  slides  on  a  high 
11^ 


126  EXPRESSION. 


note,  which  belong  to  the  careless,  colloquial  tones  of  fa- 
miliar conversation,  thus  ;  "  Take,  eat ; — this  is  my  bo- 
dy." Even  the  Lord^s  prayer^  I  have  sometimes  heard 
read  with  the  same  irreverent  familiarity  of  manner.  This 
offence  against  propriety,  becomes  still  more  violent,  when 
the  sentiment  is  not  only  solemn  but  pathetic,  requiring 
that  correspondent  quality  of  voice,  to  which  1  have  re- 
peatedly alluded. 

Should  I  attempt  fully  to  explain  the  principles  on 
which  this  pathetic  quality  of  the  voice  depends,  it  would 
lead  us  into  a  somewhat  extended  view  of  the  philosophy 
of  emotion,  as  connected  with  modulation  of  speaking 
tones.     A  few  remarks,  however,  must  suffice. 

The  fact  cannot  have  escaped  common  observation, 
that  sorrow,  and  its  kindred  passions,  when  carried  to  a 
high  pitch,  suspend  the  voice  entirely.  In  a  lower  de- 
gree, they  give  it  a  slender  and  tremulous  utterance. 
Thus  Aaron,  when  informed  that  his  two  sons  were  smit- 
ten dead,  by  a  stroke  of  divine  vengeance,  "  held  his 
peace."  The  emotions  of  his  heart  were  too  deep  to  find 
utterance  in  words.  The  highest  passion  of  this  sort,  is 
expressed  by  silence  ;  and  when  so  far  moderated,  as  to 
admit  of  words,  it  speaks  only  in  abrupt  fragments  of  sen- 
tences. Hence  it  is  that  all  artificial  imitation^  in  this 
case,  is  commonly  so  unlike  the  reality.  It  leads  to  met- 
aphors, to  amplification  and  embellishment,  in  language, 
and  to  either  vociferation  or  whining  in  utterance.  Where- 
as the  real  passion  intended  to  be  imhated,  if  it  speaks  at 
all,  speaks  without  ornament,  in  few  words,  and  in  tones  that 
are  a  perfect  contrast  to  those  of  declamation.  This  dis- 
tinction arises  from  those  laws  of  the  human  mind,  by 


EXPRESSION.  127 


which  internal  emotion  is  connected  with  its  external 
signs.  A  groan  or  a  shriek  is  instantly  understood,  as  a 
language  extorted  by  distress,  a  language  which  no  art  can 
counterfeit,  and  which  conveys  a  meaning  that  words  are 
utterly  inadequate  to  express.  The  heart,  that  is  burst- 
ing with  grief,  feels  the  sympathy  that  speaks  in  a  silent 
grasp  of  the  hand,  in  tears,  or  in  gentle  tones  of  voice  ; 
while  it  is  shocked  at  the  cold  commiseration  that  utters 
itself  in  many  words,  firmly  and  formally  pronounced. 

If  these  views  are  correct,  passion  has  its  own  approx 
priate  language  ;  and  this,  so  far  as  the  voice  is  concern- 
ed, (for  I  cannot  here  consider  looks  and  gesture,)  is  what 
I  mean  by  expression.  That  this  may  be  cultivated  by 
the  efforts  of  art,  to  some  extent,  is  evident  from  the  skill 
which  actors  have  sometimes  attained,  in  dramatic  exhi- 
bition ;  a  skill  to  which  one  of  the  fraternity  alluded,  in 
his  remark  to  a  dignitary  of  the  church,  the  cutting  sever- 
ity of  which  consists  in  the  truth  it  contains,  "We  speak 
of  fictions  as  if  they  were  realities  ;  you  speak  of  realities 
as  if  they  were  fictions."  But  the  dignity  of  real  elo- 
quence, and  peculiarly  of  sacred  eloquence  disclaims  all 
artifice  ;  and  the  sensibility  which  would  be  requisite  to 
render  imitation  successful,  would  at  the  same  time  ren- 
der it  needless  ;  for  why  should  one  aim  to  counterfeit 
that,  of  which  he  possesses  the  reality  ? 

The  fact  however,  is,  that  the  indescribable  power 
communicated  to  the  voice  by  a  delicate  sensibility,  espe- 
cially a  Christian  sensibility,  it  is  quite  beyond  the  reach 
of  art  to  imitate.  It  depends  on  the  vivid  excitement  of 
real  feeling;  and,  in  Christian  oratory,  implies  that  ex- 
pansion and  elevation  of  the  soul,  which  arise  only  from 


128  REPRESENTATION. 


a  just  feeling  of  religious  truth.  The  man  whose  tempera- 
ment is  so  phlegmatic,  that  he  cannot  kindle  with  emotion, 
at  least  with  such  degree  of  emotion  as  will  shew  itself  in 
his  countenance  and  voice,  may  be  useful  in  some  depart- 
ments of  learning,  but  the  decision  of  his  creator  is  stamp- 
ed upon  him,  that  he  was  not  made  for  a  public  speak- 
er.* 

27]  Sect.  9. — Representation, 

This  takes  place  when  one  voice  personates  two  in- 
dividuals or  more.  It  seems  necessary  to  dwell  a  little 
on  this  branch  of  modulation,  which  has  scarcely  been 
noticed  by  writers  on  oratory.  Every  one  must  have  ob- 
served how  much  more  interesting  is  an  exhibition  of  men^ 
as  living  agents,  than  of  things  in  the  abstract.  Now 
when  the  orator  introduces  another  man  as  speaking,  he 
either  informs  us  what  that  man  said,  in  the  third  person ; 
or  presents  him  to  us  as  spoken  to,  in  the  second  person, 
and  as  speaking  himself,  in  the  first.  So  far  as  the  prin- 
ciples of  style  are  concerned,  the  difference  between  the 
two  methods,  in  point  of  vivacity,  is  easily  explained. 
The  former  is  mere  description^  the  latter  is  representation. 
A  cold  narrator  would  have  said  that  Verres  was  guilty  of 
flagrant  cruelty,  in  scourging  a  man  who  declared  himself 
to  be  a  Roman  citizen.     But  Cicero  shows  us  the  man 


*  la  regard  to  the  preacher,  these  obstacles  from  mental  tem- 
perament, are  rendered  more  certainly  fatal  to  success  in  delivery, 
if  combined  with  a  system  of  belief,  or  a  state  of  religious  feeling, 
80  phlegmatic  at!  to  suppress,  rather  than  awaken,  his  spiritual  eu- 
erg-ies. 


REPRESENTATION.  129 

writhing  under  the  lash  of  the  bloody  Pretor,  and  exclam- 
ing  ;  "1  anf]  a  Ronnan  citizen." 

A  thousand  examples  are  at  hand,  to  show  the  differ- 
ence between  telling  us  what  was  said  by  another  man, 
and  introducing  that  man  to  speak  to  us  himself.  "  The 
wise  men  said  that  they  had  seen  his  star  in  the  east,  and 
had  come  to  worship  him," — is  narrative.  "  We  have 
seen  his  star  in  the  east,  and  are  come  to  worship  him,"  is 
representation.  ''  Jesus  told  Peter  that  he  should  deny 
him  thrice,"  is  narrative.  "Jesus  said,  Peter,  thou  shall 
deny  me  thrice  ;"  is  representation.  The  difference  be- 
tween these  two  modes  of  communication  it  is  the  prov- 
ince of  taste  to  feel,  but  of  criticism  to  explain.  Let  us 
then  analyse  a  simple  thought,  as  expressed  in  these  two 
forms ; — "  Jesus  inquired  of  Simon,  the  son  of  Jonas, 
whether  he  loved  him."  "  Jesus  said,  Simon,  Son  of  Jo- 
nas, lovest  thou  me  .?"  The  difference  in  point  of  vivaci- 
ty is  instantly  perceived,  but  in  what  does  this  difference 
consist  ?  In  two  things.  The  first  manner  throws  verbs 
into  past  time,  and  pronouns  into  the  third  person,  pro- 
ducing, in  the  latter  especially,  an  indefiniteness  of  gram- 
matical relation,  which  is  unfriendly  to  the  clearness  and 
vivacity  of  language.  At  the  same  time,  the  energy  aris- 
ing from  the  vocative  case,  from  the  figure  of  tense,  and 
of  interrogation,  is  sacrificed.  As  a  principle  of  composi- 
tion^ though  commonly  overlooked,  this  goes  far  to  ex- 
plain the  difference  between  the  tame  and  the  vivid  in 
style. 

But  the  same  difference  is  still  more  striking  when 
analysed  by  the  principles  of  delivery.  Transform  an  an- 
imated question  into  a   mere  statement  of  the  fact,  that 


130  REPRESENTATION. 


such  a  question  was  asked,  and  all  the  intonations  of  voice 
are  changed,  so  that  you  do  not  seem  to  hear  a  real  per- 
son speaking,  but  are  only  told  that  he  did   speak.     This 
change  in  expression  of  voice  will  be  apparent  in  repeat- 
ing the  two  forms  of  the  example  last  quoted.     Doubtless 
most  readers  of  the  New  Testament   have  feh  the  spirit 
with  which  the   Evangelist  relates   an   interview  between 
the  Jewish  priests,  and  John,  the  Baptist.     Omitting  the 
few  clauses  of  narrative,  it  is  a  dialogue,  thus; 
Priests; — Who  art  thou  ? 
John  ; — I  am  not  the  Christ. 
Priests  ; — What  then  .?  art  thou  Elias  f 
John  ; — I  am  not. 
Priests  ; — Art  thou  that  prophet  'f 
John  ; — No. 

Priests  ; — Who  art  thou  ? — that  we  may  give  an  an- 
swer to  them  that  sent  us.     What  sayest  thou  of  thyself  ? 
John  ; — I  am  the  voice  of  one  crying  in  the   wilder- 
ness,— Make  straight  the  way  of  the  Lord,   as  said  the 
prophet  Esaias. 

Priests; — Why  baptlzest  thou  then,  if  thou  be  not 
that  Christ,  nor  Elf  as,  neither  that  prophet  ? 

John  ; — I  baptize  with  water  ;  but  there  standeth  on€ 
among  you,  whom  ye  know  not ;  &c.  The  reader  will 
perceive  by  turning  to  the  passage  in  the  Evangelist  John, 
1:  19, — and  repeating  it  as  it  stands  there,  that,  not  only 
must  the  same  voice  ask  the  questions,  with  a  higher  note, 
and  give  the  answers,  with  a  lower  ;  but  also  must  distin- 
guish the  intermingled  clauses  of  narrative,  from  the  dia- 
logue. 

Now  all  these  thoughts  might  be  intelligibly  expressed 


REPRESENTATION.  131 


in  the  language  of  description,  by  the  very  common  pro- 
cess of  changing  the  pronouns  into  the  third  person,  and 
the  verbs  into  the  third  person  of  the  past  tense,  and,  of 
course,  transforming  all  the  interlocutory  tones,  into  those 
of  narrative.  But  where  would  be  the  variety  and  spirit 
of  the  passage  ?  It  would  scarcely  retain  even  a  dull  re- 
semblance of  its  present  form. 

It  is  by  just  this  sort  of  transformation,  that  reporters 
of  debates  in  legislative  bodies,  so  often  contrive  to  divest 
a  speech  of  half  its  interest,  if  they  do  not  grossly  obscure 
its  meaning.  As  I  wish  to  be  understood,  I  will  give  a 
specimen  of  this  kind,  where  the  orator  is  described  as 
proceeding  thus  ;  "  He  said  that  the  remarks  of  the  hon- 
orable member,  whether  so  intended  by  him  or  not,  were 
of  a  very  injurious  character.  If  not  aimed  at  him  per- 
sonally, they  were  adapted  to  cast  suspicion,  at  least,  on 
his  motives.  And  he  asked  if  any  gentlemen,  in  his  mo- 
ments of  cool  reflection  would  blame  him,  if  he  stood 
forth,  the  guardian  of  his  own  reputation." 

Now  let  the  narrator  keep  in  his  own  province,  and 
»  merely  state  the  thing  as  it  was, — and  the  difference  is 
seen  at  once.  The  orator  speaks  in  the  first  person  ;  "  I 
say  that  the  remarks  of  the  honourable  member,  whether 
so  intended  by  him  or  not,  are  of  a  very  injurious  charac- 
ter. If  not  aimed  at  me,  personally,  they  are  adapted  to 
cast  suspicion,  at  least,  on  my  motives.  And  I  ask,  will 
any  gentlemen,  in  his  moments  of  cool  reflection,  blame 
me,  if  1  stand  forth,  the  guardian  of  my  own  reputation  .'*" 
Here,  if  any  one  will  analyse  the  language,  in  both  cases, 
he  will  see  that,  in  the  former,  verbs  are  accomodated 
to  past  time,  and  pronouns  are  all  thrown  into  the  third 


132  REPRESENTATION. 

person,  though  belonging  to  different  antecedents ;  and 
thus  the  reporter's  pen  spreads  ambiguity  and  weakness 
over  a  thought,  as  the  torpedo  benumbs  what  it  touches. 

So  in  sacred  oratory,  it  is  a  common  thing,  that  a  pas- 
sage from  the  Bible,  which  would  speak  to  the  heart,  with 
its  own  proper  authority  and  energy,  if  the  preacher  had 
simply  cited  it  as  the  word  of  God  ;  is  transmuted  into 
comparative  insignificance,  by  the  process  of  quotation. 

The  reader  will  perceive,  that  the  principle  which  I 
here  aim  to  illustrate,  though  it  belongs  primarily  to  the 
philosophy  of  5fy/e,  has  a  very  extensive  influence  over 
every  department  o( delivery. 

The  man  who  feels  the  inspiration  of  true  eloquence, 
win  find  some  of  his  happiest  resources  in  what  I  here  call 
representation.  He  can  break  through  the  trammels  of  a 
tame,  inanimate  address.  He  can  ask  questions,  and  an- 
swer tliem ;  can  personate  an  accuser  and  a  respondent ; 
can  suppose  himself  accused  or  interrogated,  and  give  his 
replies.  .  He  can  call  up  the  absent  or  the  dead,  and 
make  them  speak  through  his  lips.  The  skill  of  represent- 
ing two  or  more  persons,  by  appropriate  management  of 
language  and  voice,  may  properly  be  called  rhetorical  di- 
alogue. It  was  thus  that  the  great  orators  of  antiquity, 
and  thus  that  Chrysostom  and  Massillon  held  their  hearers 
in  captivity. 

I  will  only  add,  that  when  a  writer,  in  the  act  of  com- 
position, finds  himself  perplexed  with  clashing  pronouns  of 
the  third  person ; — or  when  he  is  at  a  loss,  whether  part 
or  the  whole  of  a  sentence,  should  or  should  not  be  dis- 
tinguished with  a  mark  of  interrogation,  he  should  suspect 
in  himself  some  aberration  from  the  true  principles  of 
style. 


READING  OF  POETRY.  133 

Sect.  10. —  The  reading  of  Poetry, 

Before  we  dismiss  the  general  subject  of  this  chapter, 
some  remarks  may  be  expected  on  proper  management 
of  the  voice  in  the  reading  of  verse.  These  remarks, 
however,  must  necessarily  be  so  brief  as  to  give  only  a 
few  leading  suggestions  on  this  difficult  branch  of  elocu- 
tion. I  say  difficult,  because  on  the  one  hand,  the  genius 
of  verse  requires  that  it  be  pronounced  with  a  fuller  swell 
of  the  open  vowels,  and  in  a  manner  more  melodious  and 
flowing  than  prose.  As  the  peculiar  charms  of  poetry 
consist  very  much  in  delicacy  of  sentiment,  and  beauty 
of  language,  it  were  absurd  to  read  it  without  regard  to 
these  characteristics.  But  on  the  other  hand,  to  preserve 
the  metrical  flow  of  versification,  and  yet  not  impair  the 
sense,  is  no  easy  attainment.  The  following  general  prin- 
ciples may  be  of  use  to  the  student. 

1.  In  proportion  as  the  sentiment  of  a  passage  is  ele- 
vated, inspiring  emotions  of  dignity  or  reverence,  the  voice 
has  less  variety  of  inflection,  and  is  more  inclined  to  the 
monotone.  The  grand  and  sublime  in  description,  and  in 
poetic  simile  ;  the  language  of  adoration,  and  of  supplica- 
tion, are  universally  distinguished,  in  the  above  respect, 
from  familiar  discourse. 

2.  When  the  sentiment  of  a  passage  is  delicate  and 
gentle,  especially  when  it  is  plaintive,  it  inclines  the  voice 
to  the  rising  inflection  ;  and  for  this  reason,  poetry  oftener 
requires  the  rising  inflection  than  prose  :  yet, 

3.  The  rights  of  emphasis  must  be  respected  in  po- 
etry. When  the  language  of  a  passage  is  strong  and  dis- 
criminating, or  familiarly  descriptive,  or  colloquial, — the 

same  modifications  of  voice  are  required  as  in  prose. 
12 


READING  OF  POETRY.  135 

In  most  instances  of  this  sort,  where  the  metrical  ac- 
cent would  do  violence  to  every  ear  of  any  refinement, 
the  reader  should  not  attempt  to  hide  the  fauh  of  the  po- 
et, by  committing  a  greater  one  himself.  There  are 
some  cases,  however,  in  which  the  best  way  of  obviating 
the  difficulty,  is  to  give  both  the  metrical  and  the  custom- 
ary accent ;  or  at  least  to  do  this  so  far,  that  neither  shall 
be  very  conspicuous  ;  thus — 

Our  suprtme  foe,  in  time  may  much  relent. 

Of  thrones  and  mighty  seraphim  prdstrdte — 

Encamp  their  legions,  or  with  dbscure  wing — 

I  think  of  only  two  excepitons  to  these  remarks  on  ac- 
cent. The  first  occurs  where  a  distinguished  poet  has 
purposely  violated  harmony,  to  make  the  harshness  of  his 
line  correspond  with  that  of  the  thought.  This  Milton 
has  effectually  done,  in  the  following  example,  by  making 
the  customary  accent  supersede  the  metrical. 


On  a  sudden  open  fly, 


With  impetuous  recoil,  and  jarring  sound, 
The  infernal  doors  ;  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
Harsh  thunder. 

The  other  exception  occurs,  where  a  poet  of  the 
same  order,  without  any  apparent  reason,  has  so  derang- 
ed the  customary  accent,  that,  to  restore  it  in  reading, 
would  be  a  violation  of  euphony  not  to  be  endured  ; 
thus — 

And  as  is  due 

With  glory  attributed  to  the  high 
Creator  ? 

Only  to  shine,  yet  scarce  to  cdniribute 
Each  orb  a  glimpse  of  light. 


136  READING  OF  POETRY. 

5.  The  pauses  of  verse  should  be  so  managed,  if  pos- 
sible, as  most  fully  to  exhibit  the  sense,  without  sacrificing 
the  harmony  of  the  composition.  No  good  reader  can 
fail  to  observe  the  ccesural  pause,  occurring  after  the 
fourth  syllable,  in  these  flowing  lines ; 

Warms  in  the  sun  ||  refreshes  in  the  breeze, 
Glows  in  the  stars  ||  and  blossoms  in  the  trees. 

Yet  no  good  reader  would  introduce  the  same  pause, 
from  regard  to  melody,  where  the  sense  utterly  forbids  it, 
as  in  this  line ; 

I  sit,  with  sad  civility  I  read. 

While  the  ear  then,  in  our  heroic  measure,  commonly 
expects  the  caesura  after  the  fourth  syllable,  it  often  de- 
mands its  postponement  to  the  sixth  or  seventh,  and  some- 
times rejects  it  altogether. 

But  there  is  another  poetical  pause,  namely,  that 
which  occurs  at  the  end  of  the  line,  concerning  which 
there  has  been  more  diversity  of  opinion  and  practice 
among  respectable  men.  The  most  competent  judges 
have,  indeed,  very  generally  concurred  in  saying,  that  this 
pause  should  be  observed,  even  in  blank  verse,  except  on 
the  stage.  Lowth,  Johnson,  Garrick,  Kaimes,  Blair,  and 
Sheridan,  were  all  of  this  opinion.  Others,  particularly 
Walker,  have  questioned  the  propriety  of  pausing  at  the 
end  of  the  line,  in  blank  verse,  except  where  the  same 
pause  would  be  proper  in  prose. 

Now  it  seems  clear  to  me  that,  (if  there  is  any  tolera- 
ble harmony  in  the  measure,)  even  when  the  sense  of  one 
line  runs  closely  into  the  next,  the  reader  may  generally, 
mark  the  end  of  the  line  by  a  proper  protraction  and  sus- 


READING  OF  POETRY.  137 


pension  of  voice,  on  the  closing  syllable, — as  in  the  fol- 
lowing notation ; 


-Thus  with  the  year  •* 


Seasons  return,  but  not  to  me  returns  •• 
Day  II  or  the  sweet  approach  of  even  or  morn. 

And  over  them  triumphant  Death  his  dart  •• 
Shook  II  but  delayed  to  strike. 


■All  air  seemed  then  •• 


Conflicting  fire  ;  long  time  in  even  scale 
The  battle  hung. 


'For  now  the  thought 


Both  of  lost  happiness  and  lasting  pain  .. 
Torments  him. 

In  none  of  these  cases  perhaps,  would  a  printer  insert 
a  pause  at  the  end  of  the  line  ;  and  yet  there  appears  to 
be  no  difSculty  in  making  one  of  the  voice,  by  a  mode- 
rate swell  and  protraction  of  sound.  But  there  certainly 
are  examples,  and  those  not  a  few,  in  which  the  writers 
of  blank  verse  have  so  amalgamated  their  lines  by  prosaic 
arrangement  of  pauses,  that  all  attempts  of  the  reader  to 
distinguish  these  lines  would  be  useless.  Here,  again, 
as  was  said  of  misplaced  accent,  the  reader  must  look  to 
the  sense,  and  let  the  poet  be  responsible  for  the  want  of 
musical  versification. 

I  add,  in  this  place,  a  judicious  remark  of  Walker, 
to  whom  by  the  way,  I  am  indebted  for  several  of  the  fore- 
going illustrations.  "  The  affectation,"  says  he,  "  which 
most  writers  of  blank  verse  have  of  extending  the  sense 
beyond  the  line,  is  followed  by  a  similar  affectation  in  tlie 
printer,  who  will  often  omit  a  pause  at  the  end  of  a  line 
12* 


138  READING  OF  POETRY. 

in  verse,  when  we  would  have  inserted  one  in  prose ;  and 
this  affectation  is  still  carried  farther  by  the  reader,  who 
will  run  the  sense  of  one  line  into  another,  where  there  is 
the  least  opportunity  for  doing  it,  in  order  to  show  that  he 
is  too  sagacious  to  suppose  that  there  is  any  conclusion  in 
the  sense,  because  the  line  concludes." 

In  regard  to  rhyme,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it 
should  be  so  read,  as  to  make  the  end  of  the  line  quite 
perceptible  to  the  ear  :  otherwise  the  correspondent  sound 
of  the  final  syllables,  in  which  rhyme  consists,  would  be 
entirely  lost.  It  is  a  strange  species  of  trifling,  therefore, 
which  we  sometimes  witness  in  a  man,  who  takes  the 
trouble  to  adjust  his  rhymes,  in  a  poetic  composition,  and 
then  in  reading  or  speaking,  slurs  them  over  with  a  pre- 
posterous hurry,  and  confounds  them  by  an  undiscrimina- 
ting  utterance,  so  that  they  are  necessarily  unperceived  by 
the  hearers. 

6.  I  entirely  concur  with  Walker  in  his  remark  that 
the  vowels  e  and  o,  when  apostrophized,  in  poetry,  should 
be  preserved  in  pronunciation.  But  they  should  be  spok- 
en in  a  manner  so  slight  and  accelerated,  as  easily  to  co- 
alesce with  the  following  syllable.  An  example  or  two 
of  this  will  require  no  explanation. 

But  of  the  two,  less  dang'rous  is  th'  offence. 
Who  durst  defy  th'  Omnipotent  to  arms. 


It  was  my  intention,  for  the  benefit  of  young  preach- 
ers, to  remark  at  some  length,  in  this  section,  on  the  read- 
ing of  Hymns  in  the  pulpit.     But  as  the  foregoing  obser- 


READING  OP  POETRY.  139 

valions  apply  generally,  to  the  reading  of  psalms  and 
hymns,  as  well  as  other  poetry ;  it  may  be  sufficient  to 
give  a  few  suggestions,  on  points  which  pertain  especially 
to  this  interesting,  and  often  very  defective  branch  of 
Christian  elocution. 

The  chief  object  of  sacred  poetry  as  connected  with 
sacred  music,  is  to  inspire  devotional  feeling.  For  this 
purpose  it  has  been,  from  the  earliest  ages,  incorporated 
into  the  public  worship  of  God,  by  his  own  appointment. 
Poetry  written  for  the  silent  perusal  of  individiials,  or 
adapted  only  to  the  instruction  or  amusement  of  the  so- 
cial circle,  though  read  unskilfully,  suffers  only  a  diminu- 
tion of  interest,  respecting  a  subject  perhaps  of  momenta- 
ry concern.  But  poetry  written  expressly  to  aid  the  pub- 
lic devotions  of  Christians,  and  designed  to  be  repeated, 
again  and  again,  in  their  solemn  assemblies,  cannot  be 
read  unskilfully,  without  a  serious  loss  of  interest  in  the 
hearers,  respecting  subjects  in  which  their  duty  and  hap- 
piness are  involved. 

That  discrimination  of  taste  and  sensibility,  which  feels 
the  spirit  of  poetry,  doubtless  may  be  very  defective  in 
some  men,  even  of  elevated  piety.  Sometimes  from  this 
want  of  discrimination,  and  oftener  still  from  inattention  to 
the  subject,  arise  the  faults  which  I  shall  briefly  notice. 

Perhaps  the  most  comprehensive  of  these  faults  con- 
sists in  the  injudicious  selection  of  the  psalm  or  hymn  to 
be  read.  Not  a  few  of  these  compositions,  in  the  best 
books  that  have  been  written  or  complied,  are  merely  nar- 
rative or  didactic  in  subject,  and  destitute  of  all  poetic 
spirit  in  execution.  Even  those  of  the  seraphic  Watts, 
surpassing,  as  they  certainly  do,  all  others  in  their  general 


140  READING  OF  POETRY. 

merits,  contain  many  passages,  that  are  quite  tolerable  as 
to  metre  and  ryhme,  but  destitute  of  the  inspiration  and 
soul  of  real  poetry.     There  is  besides,   a  very   injurious 
tendency  to  fluctuation  in  our  psalmody,  arising  from  a 
fastidious  demand  for  novelty,  and  a  disposition  in  differ- 
ent Christian  sects  to  have  each  its  own  psalm,  as  well  as 
doctrine.     Hence  the  psalms  of  David,  as  adapted  by 
Watts  to  Christian  worship,  are  in  a  great  degree  supplant- 
ed by  various  collections  of  hymns  ;  and  to  accommodate 
a  vagrant  taste  in  music,  many  of  these  are   hymns  writ- 
ten in  irregular  and  rapid   measures,  little  suited  to  pro- 
mote the  solemnity  of  devotional  feeling.     Many  others,  I 
know,  are  distinguished  for  pathos,  and  are  eminently  fit- 
ted to  awaken  Christian  fervour,  especially  on  account  of 
their  appropriateness  to  the  occasions  and  the  spirit  of 
the  age.     At  the  same  time,  if  I  may  be  excused  for 
turning  aside  so  much  as  to  introduce  this  topic,  I  would 
say,  that  preachers  have  injured  the  interest  of  psalmody 
by  their  general  preference  of  hymns,  in  public  worship, 
to  the  psalms  of  the  inspired  poet,  in  the  version  of  Watts. 
The  strain  of  humble  devotion,  of  deep  penitence,  of  ele- 
vated praise,  which  prevails  in   these   sacred   songs,  not- 
withstanding the  defects  attending  the  best  metrical  ver- 
sion of  them  which  has  been  given  to  the  church,  ought 
to  preserve  them    from    falling  into    neglect.     Some  of 
these  indeed,  are  too  much  wanting  in  dignity  and  poetic 
spirit,  to  be  read  in  public  ;  but  they  are   generally  free 
from  both    the    didactic    and   the    fanciful    character,  of 
which  we  have  so  many   examples  in  our  collections  of 
hymns. 

Next  to  want  of  skill  in  selection,  is  the  fault  of  an 


READING  OP  POETRY.  141 

undiscriminating,  inanimate  manner  of  reading.  This 
consists  in  that  measured,  scanning  attention  to  poetic  ac- 
cent, and  that  undulating  tone,  by  which  the  sense  is 
made  subordinate  to  sound.  As  this  is  a  general  fault  in 
reading  verse,  no  enlargement  on  it  is  necessary,  except 
to  add  an  example  or  two,  marked  according  to  the  man- 
ner to  be  avoided. 

Here  on  my  heart  the  burden  lies, 
And  past  offences  pain  mine  eyes. 

Lord  should  thy  judgments  grow  severe, 
I  am  condemnM  but  thou  art  clear. 

Thy  blood  can  make  me  white  as  snow. 
No  *7^eM?ish  types  could  cleanse  me  so. 

This  last  stress  on  Jevdsh,  though  almost  universally 
laid  by  readers,  is  an  utter  perversion  of  the  sense,  imply- 
ing that  other  types  than  Jewish  might  effect  what  they 
cannot. 

Another  fault  is  a  too  prosaic  manner.  It  is  the  op- 
posite of  the  foregoing,  and  consists  in  the  disregard  of 
poetic  harmony.  This  I  will  exemplify  only  as  it  respects 
the  pause  at  the  end  of  the  line. 

Come,  let  our  voices  join  to  raise 
A  sacred  song  of  solemn  praise  ; 
God  is  a  sovereign  king,  rehearse 
His  honours  in  exalted  verse. 

Nor  let  our  harden'd  hearts  renew 
The  sins  and  plagues  that  Israel  knew. 

Since  they  despise  my  rest,  I  swear 
Their  feet  shall  never  enter  there. 


142  READING  OF  POETRY. 

See  other  examples  of  the  same  sort  in  Watts,  Psalm  96, 
Com.  Metre,  4  and  5  verses :  and  Hymn  140,  2  Book,  1 
ver. 

In  cases  of  this  sort,  the  reader,  perhaps  through  af- 
fectation of  sagacity,  hastens  over  the  end  of  the  line, 
stopping  just  before  and  after  it,  when  such  stop  is  often 
quite  as  much  against  the  rules  of  common  punctuation, 
as  to  have  made  it  at  the  end  of  the  line.  In  the  second 
example  above,  he  would  read  thus,  "  Nor  let  our  har- 
den'd  hearts, — renew  the  sins, — and  plagues  &c. 

Another  fault  is  the  affectation  of  a  rhetorical  manner. 
It  consists  in  want  of  simplicity.  Perhaps  the  reader  as- 
sumes di  pompous  or  theatrical  air,  seeming  to  aim  at  the 
display  of  his  oratorical  powers.  Or  on  the  other  hand, 
he  repeats  a  stanza  that  is  full  of  sublime  or  devotional 
sentiment,  with  the  colloquial  inflections  of  familiar  prose. 
Both  of  these  faults  show,  that  the  heart  of  the  reader  is 
not  touched  with  that  glow  of  religious  feeling,  which  a 
Christian  hymn  ought  to  inspire.  Indeed,  so  delicate  and 
sacred  is  this  thing,  that  all  affectation  of  excellence,  all 
effort  that  is  apparently  artificial,  is  intolerable.  It  is  in 
this  case,  as  it  is  in  public  prayer,  and  reading  of  the 
scriptures,  a  heart  filled  with  reverence  towards  God,  and 
warmed  with  the  spirit  of  Christian  devotion,  is  more  ef- 
fectual than  all  things  else,  to  govern  aright  the  modula- 
tions of  the  voice. 

In  regard  to  inflections  in  reading  the  stanzas  of  a 
hymn,  I  would  suggest  a  caution  against  the  very  common 
practice  of  dropping  the  voice  at  the  end  of  the  second 
Jine,  without  regard  to  the  connexion.  Walker  says  that, 
"  With  very  few  exceptions,  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  rule, 


READING  OF  POETRY.  143 

in  reading  a  stanza,  that  the  first  line  may  end  with  the 
monotone,  the  second  and  third  with  the  rising  slide,  and 
the  last  with  the  falling."  The  exceptions  to  this  rule,  or 
to  any  one  that  could  be  concisely  expressed,  I  think  are 
not  "  very  few."  When  the  continuity  of  sense  through  a 
stanza,  is  very  close,  the  voice  continues  in  the  suspend- 
ing slide,  much  more  than  when  long  pauses  intervene. 
The  monotone,  doubtless,  should  more  frequently  than  is 
common,  be  heard  at  the  end  of  a  line. 

If  some  of  the  most  rhetorical  psalms  were  properly 
marked  with  a  notation,  especially  so  far  as  respects  em- 
phasis, it  might  lead  to  a  more  discriminating  manner  in 
reading  them.  But  instead  of  giving  specimens  to  illus- 
trate my  meaning  here,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  ex- 
ercises [28.]  where  some  brief  examples  will  be  found. 


CHAP.  VII. 


RHETORZCAZi  ACTIOT7. 

I  USE  the  term  action,  not  for  the  whole  of  delivery, 
according  to  the  most  extensive  sense  given  to  it  by  the 
ancients ;  nor  yet  in  the  most  restricted  modern  sense,  as 
equivalent  to  gesture  merely  ;  but  as  including  also  atti- 
tudes and  expression  of  the  countenance.  While  I  shall 
have  occasion  often  to  refer  to  what  has  been  taught  in 
books  on  this  subject,  my  chief  design  is  to  make  such  re- 
marks as  have  been  suggested  by  my  own  observation  and 
reflections.  To  what  extent  these  remarks  should  be 
carried,  in  so  small  a  treatise  on  delivery,  is  a  point  on 
which  I  have  doubted ;  and  some  perhaps  may  think  that 
whatever  is  of  practical  importance  might  have  been  said 
in  a  briefer  form. 

That  action,  which  Cicero  calls  "sermo  corporis,"  is 
an  important  part  of  oratory,  is  too  evident  to  demand 
proof.  If  any  one  doubts  this,  let  him  ask  himself,  how 
does  a  great  painter  give  reality  and  life  to  his  portrait  i 
How  do  children  speak  ?  How  do  the  dumb  speak  ?  Ac- 
tion and  attitude  in  these  cases  are  the  language  of  nature 
to  express  feeling  and  emotion. 

There  are  two  extremes  respecting  this  subject,  each 
of  which  deserves  a  brief  notice,  in  this  place,  as  being  at 
variance  with  common  sense. 


RHETORICAL  ACTION.  145 

The  first  is,  that  which  encumbers  a  speaker  with  so 
much  technical  regulation  of  his  movements,  as  to  make 
him  an  automaton.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that 
a  young  student,  before  he  can  commence  his  efforts  in 
oratory,  must  commit  to  memory  a  system  of  rules  re- 
specting gesticulation,  just  as  arithmetical  tables  must  be 
learned  by  the  tyro  in  numbers.  When  a  beginner  in  elo- 
cution shall  be  able  to  look  at  an  assembly,  without  an  un- 
manly flutter  of  spirits,  and  shall  have  acquired  a  good 
degree  of  ease,  in  the  attitudes  and  motions  of  his  body, 
then  it  will  be  time  enough  to  rectify,  one  after  another, 
the  faults  of  his  own  manner,  by  attention  to  good  mod- 
els, and  correct  principles  of  action.  This  1  am  persuad- 
ed should  be  attempted  gradually^  rather  than  all  at  once  ; 
for  the  transforming  influence  of  practice^  is  essential  to 
any  useful  application  of  precepts.  And  these  precepts 
too,  when  given  to  an  individual,  I  am  fully  satisfied  af- 
ter much  observatibn,  instead  of  being  confined  to  minute 
directions  respecting  his  own  gesticulation,  should  espe- 
cially be  adapted  to  instruct  him  in  general  principles. 
All  attempts  to  regulate  the  attitudes  and  movements  of 
his  body,  by  diagrams  and  geometrical  lines,  without  great 
skill  in  the  teacher,  will  lead  to  an  affected,  mechanical 
manner.  His  habits  are  of  prime  importance.  By  these, 
good  or  bad,  he  must  be  governed  in  the  act  of  speaking, 
for  to  think  of  his  manner  then  will  be  the  certain  ruin  of 
all  simplicity.  Let  these  habits  be  well  formed,  and  be 
his  own,  so  as  to  govern  his  movements  spontaneously, 
and  trust  the  rest  to  emotion. 

The  other  extreme  to  which  I  alluded,  is  that  which 
condemns  all  precepts  and   all  preparatory  practice  too, 

13 


146  RHETORICAL  ACTION, 


as  mischievous  in  their  influence,  because  no  one  can 
learn  to  speak,  till  he  comes  into  the  real  business  of 
speaking,  as  his  profession. 

On  this  I  can  make  but  one  passing  remark.  Pre* 
paratory  discipline  of  the  faculties  necessarily  wants  the 
stimulus  of  real  business,  in  respect  to  every  liberal  art 
and  valuable  talent  among  men.  Why  then  shall  not 
such  discipline  be  deemed  useless  in  all  other  cases,  as 
well  as  in  elocution  f  Why  shall  we  not  neglect  to  learn 
any  thing,  which  relates  to  practical  skill  in  a  profession, 
till  we  actually  enter  on  that  profession  ? 

I  now  proceed  to  offer  my  remarks  on  Rhetorical  Ac- 
tion, dividing  the  subject  into  two  parts. 

Part  I.  the  principles  of  rhetorical  action. 

The  power  of  action  consists  wholly  in  its  correspon- 
dence with  thought  and  emotion  ;  and  this  correspondence 
arises  either  from  nature  or  custom. 

Sect.  1 — Action  as  significant  from  nature. 

The  body  is  the  instrument  of  the  soul,  or  the  medi- 
um of  expressing  internal  emotions,  by  external  signs. 
The  less  these  signs  depend  on  the  will,  on  usage,  or  on 
accident,  the  more  uniform  are  they,  and  the  more  cer- 
tainly to  be  relied  on. 

Expression  of  the  countenance. 

The  soul  speaks  most  intelligibly,  so  far  as  visible 
signs  ?ire  concerned,  in  those  muscles  which  are  the  most 


RHETORICAL  ACTION.  147 


pliant  and  prompt  to  obey  its  dictates.  These  are  the 
muscles  of  the  face ;  which  spontaneously,  and  almost 
instantaneously  respond  to  the  impulse  from  within.  An- 
ger, for  example,  shows  itself  in  the  contraction  of  the 
brow,  the  flash  of  the  eye,  the  quivering  of  the  lip,  and  the 
alternate  paleness  and  crimson  of  the  cheek.  Terror  is 
expressed  by  convulsive  heaving  of  the  bosom,  and  by 
hurried  respiration  and  speech.  Joy  sparkles  in  the  eye, 
— sorrow  vents  itself  in  tears. 

Now,  why  is  it  that  these  signs,  invariably,  and  every 
where,  are  regarded  as  the  stamp  of  reality  I  The  rea- 
son is,  they  are  not  only  the  genuine  language  of  emotion, 
but  are  independent  of  the  will,  A  groan  or  shriek  speaks 
to  the  ear,  as  the  language  of  distress,  with  far  more 
thrilling  effect  than  words.  Yet  these  may  be  counter- 
feited by  art.  Much  more  may  common  tones  of  voice 
be  rendered  loud  or  soft,  high  or  low  at  pleasure.  But 
not  so  with  the  signs  which  emotion  imprints  on  the  face. 
Whether  anger,  fear,  joy, — shall  show  themselves  in  the 
hue  of  my  cheek,  or  the  expression  of  my  eye,  depends 
not  at  all  on  my  choice,  any  more  than  whether  my  heart 
shall  beat,  and  my  blood  circulate.  So  unequivocal  is 
this  language  of  the  passions,  and  so  incapable  of  being 
applied  to  purposes  of  deception,  that  all  men  feel  its  force, 
instinctively  and  immediately.  They  know  that  the  hand 
or  the  tongue^  which  obey  the  dictates  of  the  will,  may 
deceive  ;  but  xheface  cannot  speak  falsehood. 

I  might  add,  that  he  whose  soul  is  so  destitute  of  emo- 
tion, as  not  to  impart  this  expression  to  his  countenance, 
or  he  whose  acquired  habits  are  so  unfortunate,  as  to  frus- 
trate this  expression,  whatever  qualities  he  may  possess 
besides,  lacks  one  grand  requisite  to  true  eloquence. 


148  RHETORICAL  ACTION. 

If  the  visible  signs  of  passion  are  thus  invariable,  so 
that  even  a  child  instinctively  understands  the  smile  or  the 
frown  of  its  nurse,  it  is  probably  no  visionary  theory  which 
supposes  a  correspondence,  to  some  extent,  between  the 
habits  of  the  mind,  and  certain  configurations  in  the  fea- 
tures of  the  face.  Every  one  knows  the  difference  be- 
tween the  cheerful  aspect  of  innocence,  the  vivacity  of 
intelligence,  the  charming  languor  of  pity  or  grief,  as  im- 
printed on  the  countenance  ;  and  the  scowl  of  misanthro- 
py, the  dark  suspicion  of  guilt,  the  vacant  stare  of  stupid- 
ity, or  the  haggard  phrensy  of  despair.  And  it  is  reason- 
able to  suppose  that  affections  and  intellectual  habits,  such 
as  benevolence  or  malignity,  cheerfulness  or  melancholy, 
deep  thought  or  frivolity,  must  imprint  themselves,  just  in 
proportion  to  their  predominance,  in  distinct  and  perma- 
nent lines  upon  the  face. 

Attitude  and  Mien. 

Here  again,  all  distinctions,  of  any  value,  result  from 
our  knowledge  of  the  influence  which  the  mind  has  on 
the  body.  An  erect  attitude  denotes  majesty,  activity, 
strength.  It  becomes  the  authority  of  a  commander,  the 
energy  of  a  soldier  in  arms,  and  in  all  cases,  the  dignity 
of  conscious  innocence.  Adam  and  Eve,  in  thfe  descrip- 
tion of  Milton,  on  account  of  their  noble  shape  and  erect 
carriage,  "  seem'd  lords  of  all."  The  leaning  attitude, 
in  its  varieties  of  expression,  may  denote  affection,  re- 
spect, the  earnestness  of  entreaty,  the  dignity  of  compo- 
sure, the  listlessness  of  indifference,  or  the  lassitude  of  dis- 
*ease. 

The  air  of  a  man  too,  including  his  general  motion. 


RHETORICAL  ACTION.  149 

has  its  language.  That  peculiarity  in  the  walk  of  differ- 
ent persons,  which  enables  us  to  distinguish  at  a  distance, 
one  friend  from  another,  does  not  of  course  mark  a  cor- 
respondent discrimination  of  character.  But  the  meas- 
ured pace  of  the  ploughman,  the  strut  of  the  coxcomb, 
and  the  dignified  gait  of  the  military  chief,  we  necessari- 
ly associate  with  a  supposed  difference  of  personal  quali- 
ties and  habits,  in  the  individuals.  Hence  the  queen  of 
Olympus  is  represented  in  poetic  fable,  as  claiming  to  be 
known  by  her  stately  carriage  ;  "  divum  incedo  regina." 
And  so  Venus  was  known  to  her  son,  by  the  elegance  of 
her  motion  ;  "  incessu  patuit  dea." 

In  those  parts  of  the  body,  which  act  frequently  and 
visibly  in  the  common  offices  of  life,  motion  is  n)ore  or 
less  significant  according  to  circumstances.  A  deaf  man 
places  his  hand  by  his  ear,  in  such  a  manner  as  partially 
to  serve  the  purpose  of  a  hearing  trumpet.  He  opens 
his  mouth,  in  the  attitude  of  listening,  because  defective 
hearing  is  assisted  by  transmission  of  sound  through  a  pas- 
sa^^e  from  the  mouth  to  the  ear. 

Joy  approaching  to  rapture,  gives  a  sparkling  brillian- 
cy to  the  eye,  and  a  sprightly  activity  to  the  limbs.  We  see 
this  in  a  long  absent  child,  springing  to  the  arms  of  its 
parent ;  we  see  it  in  the  beautiful  narrative  of  the  lame 
man,  who  had  been  miraculously  healed,  "  walking,  and 
leaping,  and  praising  God." 

The  head  gently  reclined,  denotes  grief  or  shame ; 
erect, — courage,  firmness  ;  thrown  back  or  shaken, — dis- 
sent, negation  ;  forwards,  assent. 

The  hand,  raised  and  inverted,  repels ;  more  elevat- 
ed and  extended,  denotes  surprise;   placed  on  the  mouth 

13* 


150  RHETORICAL  ACTION. 

silence  ;  on  the  head,  pain  ;  on  the  breast,  affection,  or 
an  appeal  to  conscience  ;  clenched,  it  signifies  defiance. 
Both  hands  raised,  with  the  palms  united,  express  suppli- 
cation ;  gently  clasped,  thankfulness ;  wrung,  agony. 

In  most  of  these  cases,  action  is  significant  because  it 
is  spontaneous  and  uniform.  The  mother  who  saw  her 
son  just  shot  dead,  in  Convent  Garden,  expressed  her 
amazement  by  a  motion  of  her  hand,  such  as  a  thousand 
others  would  make,  probably  without  one  exception,  in 
similar  circumstances. 

A  Greek  eulogist  of  Caesar  says,  "  his  right  hand  was 
mighty  to  command,  which  by  its  majestic  power  did 
quell  the  fierce  audacity  of  barbarous  men."  "  A  man 
standing  by  the  bed  of  an  expiring  friend,  waving  his 
hand  with  the  palm  outward,  tells  an  officious  nurse  to 
stand  back,  at  a  distance.  Again  the  same  hand  beck- 
ons, with  the  palm  inward,  and  the  nurse  flies  to  his  assis- 
tance."^ The  Roman  who  held  up  the  stump  of  his 
arm,  from  which  the  hand  was  lost,  in  the  service  of  his 
country,  pleaded  for  his  brother,  with  an  eloquence  sur- 
passing the  power  of  words.  And  all  the  influence  of 
the  Tribunes,  could  not  persuade  the  people  to  pass  a  vote 
of  condemnation  against  Manlius,  while  he  stood  and  si- 
lently stretched  out  his  hand,  towards  the  Capitol,  which 
his  valor  had  saved. 
—  «■  ■        I .  ■■  .      ■      "I 

•  SiddoDs. 


RHETORICAL  ACTION. 


Sect.  2. — Action  considered  as  significant  from  custom. 

In  this  respect  its  meaning,  like  that  of  words,  is  arbi- 
trary, local  and  mutable.  In  Europe,  respect  is  express- 
ed by  uncovering  the  head  ;  in  the  East,  by  keeping  it  cov- 
ered. In  one  country,  the  same  thing  is  expressed  by 
bowing,  in  another  by  kneeling,  in  another,  by  prostration. 
The  New  Zealander  presses  his  nose  against  that  of  his 
friend,  to  denote  what  we  express  by  a  squeeze  of  the 
hand.^  The  European  welcomes  the  return  of  a  belov- 
ed object  by  an  embrace ; — the  Otaheitan  signifies  the 
same  emotion  by  tearing  his  hair,  and  lacerating  his  body. 

On  gestures  of  this  description  I  shall  say  nothing 
more,  except  that  they  have  very  little  concern  with  grave 
oratory.  This  allows  nothing  as  becoming,  that  does  not 
correspond  with  time  and  place,  the  age  of  the  orator, 
and  the  elevation  of  his  subject.  It  abjures  mimicry  and 
pantomime.  The  theatre  admits  of  attitude  and  action, 
that  would  be  altogether  extravagant  in  the  senate.  The 
forum  too,  though  much  more  restricted  than  the  stage,  al- 
lows a  violence  that  would  be  unsuitable  to  the  business 
of  the  sacred  orator.  Indeed,  the  dignity  of  eloquence  can 
in  no  case  condescend  to  histrionic  levity.  The  comic 
actor  may  descend  to  minute  imitation  ;  he  may,  for  ex- 
ample, represent  the  fingers  of  the  physician  applied  to 
the  pulse  of  his  patient,  or  of  the  musician  to  the  strings 
of  his  instrument.  But  in  the  orator,  all  this  is  to  be,  as 
Quinctilian  says,  "  longissime  fugiendum." 


*  Homer  makes  Glaucus  and  Diomed,  two  chiefs  of  the  oppo- 
sing armies,  shake  hands^  as  a  token  of  individual  friendship.  Iliad 
VI.  233. 


152  RHETORICAL  ACtlON. 


Part  II. — Faults  of  Rhetorical  Action. 

Before  I  proceed  to  that  cursory  view  of  these  which 
I  propose  to  give,  it  may  be  useful  to  advert  to  the  sour- 
ces  from  which  they  are  derived.  These  are  chiefly,  per- 
sonal  defects,  diffidence,  and  imitation. 

Any  considerable  defect,  original  or  accidental,  in 
the  conformation  of  the  body,  may  injure  the  force  or 
gracefulness  of  its  movements.  The  walk  of  Achilles 
must  have  had  more  dignity,  than  the  halting  gait  of  Ther- 
sites.  If  Cicero  had  lost  his  right  hand,  or  even  the 
thumb  or  forefinger  of  that  hand,  though  he  would  have 
been  still  the  first  orator  of  Rome,  he  would  have  been 
somewhat  less  than  Cicero.  Austin  observes  that  short- 
ness of  neck  and  of  arms  is  unfavorable  to  oratorical  ges- 
ture. But  I  am  not  aware  that  this  remark  is  justified  by 
facts,  except  so  far  as  corpulence  is  unfriendly  to  agility 
and  freedom  of  movement. 

Many  defects  in  the  action  of  public  speakers,  have 
their  origin  probably  in  an  unmanly  diffidence.  When 
one,  who  has  had  no  preparatory  discipline  in  public 
speaking,  rises  to  address  a  large  assembly,  he  is  appalled 
at  the  very  aspect  of  his  audience,  and  dares  not  stir  a 
limb,  lest  he  should  commit  some  mistake.  Before  he 
surmounts  this  timidity,  he  is  liable  to  fall  under  the  do- 
minion of  habits,  from  which  he  can  never  release  himself. 
When,  therefore.  Walker  says,  "  A  speaker  should  use 
no  more  gesture  than  he  can  help,"  he  must  mean  an  ac- 
complished speaker,  whose  external  powers  spontaneously 
obey  the  impulse  of  his  feelings.     But  it  would  be  idle 


RHETORICAL  ACTION.  153 

to  say  that  a  prisoner,  whose  hands  are  pinioned  hy  cords, 
should  stir  them  no  more  than  he  can  help.  And  it  is  no 
less  idle  to  say  this  of  a  speaker,  whose  hands  are  pinion- 
ed by  habit.  Cut  the  cords  that  bind  him,  set  his  limbs 
at  liberty  to  obey  his  inward  emotions,  and  I  readily  ad- 
mit the  justice  of  the  principle.  But  when  diffidence 
does  not  acquire  such  an  ascendency  as  to  suppress  ac- 
tion, it  may  render  it  constrained  and  inappropriate,  and 
in  many  ways  frustrate  its  utility. 

The  only  other  cause  of  the  imperfections  which  I  am 
about  to  notice,  is  imitation.  This,  when  combined  with 
the  one  just  mentioned,  operates  with  an  influence  more 
powerful  perhaps,  than  in  any  other  case.  Addison,  in 
describing  English  oratory,  says  "We  can  talk  of  life  and 
death  in  cold  blood,  and  keep  our  temper,  in  a  discourse 
that  turns  upon  every  thing  that  is  dear  to  us."  This 
censure  he  extends  to  the  pulpit,  the  bar,  and  the  senate. 
The  fact  he  accounts  for,  partly  by  the  charitable  suppo- 
sition that  the  English  are  peculiarly  modest ;  while  he 
allows  us,  if  he  does  not  oblige  us,  to  ascribe  it  ultimately 
to  a  frigid  national  temperament.  And  yet,  in  this  he 
seems  hardly  consistent ;  for  he  adds,  "  Though  our  zeal 
breaks  out  in  the  finest  tropes  and  figures,  it  is  not  able  to 
stir  a  limb  about  us." 

But  how  can  the  external  signs  of  emotion  be  thus  in- 
congruous ?  A  zeal  that  kindles  the  soul  of  a  speaker, 
that  bursts  from  his  mouth  in  tropes,  never  fails  to  stir  his 
limbs,  unless  some  pow^erful,  counteracting  cause  prevents. 
Now  we  have  just  seen  that  such  a  cause  may  exist, 
which,  even  in  spite  of  emotion,  will  as  efl^ectually  confine 
a  man's   hands,  as  if  they  were  literally  bound.     And 


154  RHETORICAL  ACTION. 

» " — — ■ — ' ■ -^ 

what  absurdity  is  there  in  supposing,  that  what  was  excess 
of  modesty,  in  a  few  Enghshmen  of  distinction,  at  some 
early  period,  was  transferred  to  others,  by  imitation  ;  so 
that  the  want  of  gesture  of  which  Addison  complains  be- 
came a  national  characteristic  ?  National  habits  result 
from  individual,  often  by  a  process  of  ages,  the  effects  of 
which  are  manifest,  while  the  operation  is  unseen.  And 
it  is  more  philosophical  to  ascribe  the  fact  on  which  I  am 
remarking,  to  a  public  taste,  formed  and  perpetuated  by 
imitation,  than  to  suppose,  as  is  often  done  a  temperament 
singularly  phlegmatic  in  a  people,  whose  poets,  and  secu- 
lar orators,  have  unquestionably  surpassed  all  their  co- 
temporaries,  in  powers  of  imagination. 

But  want  of  action  is  not  the  only  fault  that  may 
spring  from  imitation.  In  the  case  of  individuals,  excess 
and  awkwardness,  may  arise  from  undue  regard  to  some 
improper  model.  Cicero  mentions  an  orator,  who  was 
distinguished  for  pathos,  and  a  wry  face  ;  and  says  that 
another  who  made  him  his  pattern,  imitated  his  distor- 
tion of  features,  but  not  his  pathos.  Special  fauhs  in  one 
whom  we  mean  to  imitate,  strike  attention,  because  they 
commonly  appear  in  the  form  of  peculiarity.  This,  while 
it  renders  imitation  more  preposterous,  renders  it,  at  the 
same  time,  more  obvious.  The  worst  jesture  of  Hamil- 
ton has  been  transmitted  by  imitation,  to  this  time ;  and 
is  used  by  some  who  never  saw  that  great  man,  and  who 
know  nothing  of  his  manner  as  a  speaker.  In  this  way, 
some  peculiarity,  that  was  perhaps  accidental  at  first,  may 
acquire  ascendency  in  a  college,  and  be  transmitted  from 
one  generation  to  another  of  its  students. 

In  proceeding  now  to  mention,  with  more  particular- 


RHETORICAL  ACTION.  155 

ity,  the  faults  of  action,  I  shall  follow  the  order  of  my 
previous  remarks  on  countenance,  attitude,  and  gesture. 

The  eye  is  the  only  part  of  the  face,  that  it  falls  with- 
in my  design  to  notice  here,  both  because  this  is  the  chief 
seat  of  expression,  and  because  its  significance  is  especial- 
ly liable  to  be  frustrated  by  mismanagement.  For  rea- 
sons already  mentioned,  the  intercourse  of  soul  between 
speaker  and  hearers,  is  carried  on  more  unequivocally 
through  the  eye,  than  in  any  other  way.  But  if  he  neg- 
lects, to  look  at  them,  and  they  in  return  neglect,  (as  they 
commonly  will,)  to  look  at  him  ;  the  mutual  reaction  of 
feeling  through  the  countenance,  is  lost ;  and  vocal  lan- 
guage is  all  the  medium  of  intercourse  that  remains.* 

The  eye  "  bent  on  vacuity,"  as  the  artists  call  it,  is  the 
next  most  common  defect,  of  this  sort.  The  glass-eye 
of  a  wax  figure,  at  once  tells  its  own  character.  There 
may  be,  in  other  respects,  the  proportion  and  complexion 
of  a  human  face  ;  but  that  eye,  the  moment  it  is  examin- 
ed, you  perceive  is  nothing  more,  and,  at  best,  it  can  be 
nothing  more  than  a  bungling  counterfeit.  So  the  eye 
of  a  speaker  may  be  open,  and  yet  not  see  ;  at  least  there 
may  be  no  discrimination,  no  meaning  in  its  look.     It 

*  The  reader  will  please  to  observe  that,  in  the  foUowiDg  pag;es, 
such  remarks  as  apply  solely  or  peculiarly  to  the  pulpit,  are  given 
in  the  notes. 

It  falls  not  within  my  design  here,  to  inquire  how  far  the  preva- 
lent practice  of  reading  sermons,  ought  to  be  dispensed  with.  But 
it  is  plainly  absurd  to  speak  of  expression  in  a  preacher's  eye,  while 
it  is  fixed  on  a  manuscript.  Nearly  the  ?ame  infelicity,  and  on  some 
accounts  a  greater  one,  attends  the  rapid,  dodging  cast  of  the  eye 
from  the  notes  to  the  hearers,  and  back  again ;  implying  a  servile 
dependance  on  what  is  written,  even  in  repeating  the  most  familiar 
declarations  of  the  Bible.  And  this  infelicity  is  still  aggravated  by 
such  a  position  of  the  manuscript,  as  to  require  the  eye  to  be  turned 
directly  downward  in  looking  at  it. 


156  RHETORICAL  ACTION. 

does  not  look  at  any  thing.  There  is  in  its  expression,  a 
generality,  a  vacuity,  so  to  speak,  that  expresses  nothing. 
To  the  same  class  belongs  that  indefinite  sweep  of  the 
eye,  which  passes  from  one  side  to  another  of  an  assem- 
bly, resting  no  where  ;  and  that  tremulous,  waving  cast  of 
the  eye,  and  winking  of  the  eyelid,  which  is  in  direct  con- 
trast to  an  open,  collected,  manly  expression  of  the  face.* 

So  fatal  are  these  faults  to  the  impression  of  delivery, 
that  too  much  care  cannot  be  taken  to  avoid  them. 

Attitude  I  use,  not  in  the  theatrical  sense  of  the  word, 
(for  this  has  no  concern  with  oratory,)  but  as  denoting  the 
general  positions  of  the  body,  which  are  becoming  or  oth- 
erwise in  a  speaker.  In  some  few  instances  I  have  ob- 
served the  head  to  be  kept  so  erect,  as  to  give  the  air  of 
haughtiness.  In  others,  it  is  dropped  so  low,  that  the  man 
seems  to  be  carelessly  surveying  his  own  person.  In  oth- 
ers it  is  reclined  towards  one  shoulder,  so  as  to  give  the 
appearance  of  languor  or  indolence. f 

As  to  the  degree  of  motion  that  is  proper  for  the  body, 
it  may  be  safely  said,  that  while  the  fixedness  of  a  post  is 
an  extreme,  all  violent  tossing  of  the  body  from  side  to 
side,  rising  on  the  toes,  or  writhing  of  the  shoulders  and 
limbs,  are  not  less  unseemly. 


*  Here  a^in  the  habit  acquired  by  some  preachers,  from  close- 
ly reading  their  sermons,  is  such,  that  when  they  raise  their  eye 
from  the  paper,  thi-y  fix  it  on  the  floor  of  the  aisle,  or  on  a  post  or 
pannel,  to  avoid  a  direct  look  at  their  hearers. 

t  There  is  often  something  characteristic  in  the  air  with  which 
e  preacher  enters  a  church,  ascends  the  pulpit,  and  rises  in  it  to 
address  an  assembly.  If  he  assumes  the  gracefulness  of  a  fine  gen- 
tleman, as>  if  he  Here  practising  the  lessons  of  an  assembly  room,  ev- 
ery hearer  of  discernment  will  see  that  bis  object  is  to  exhibit  him- 


RHETORICAL  ACTION.  1611 

The  remarks  which  come  next  to  be  made  on  gesture^ 
are  more  various.^ 

One  principal  fault  which  1  have  noticed  in  this,  is  want 
of  appropriateness.  By  this  I  mean  that  it  is  not  suffi- 
ciently adapted  to  circumstances.  An  address  to  an  as- 
sembly of  cortimon  men,  admits  a  boldness  of  action,  that 
would  be  unseemly  in  one  delivered  to  a  prince. f 


self^  and  will  be  offended  at  so  gross  a  want  of  that  seriousness 
which  becomes  his  sacred  office. 

In  minor  points, — what  constitutes  decorum  depends  not  on 
philosophy  nor  accident,  but  on  custom.  From  real  or  affected 
carelessness  on  such  points,  the  preacher  may  fix  on  some  trivial 
circumstance,  that  attention  of  his  hearers,  which  should  be  devot- 
ed to  greater  things.  He  may  do  this,  for  example,  by  standing 
much  too  high,  or  too  low  in  the  pulpit ;  by  rising,  as  in  the  act 
of  commencing  his  sermon,  before  the  singing  is  closed  ;  or  delay- 
ing for  so  long  an  interval,  as  to  excite  apprehension  that  something 
has  befallen  him  ;  by  an  awkward  holding  of  his  Psalm  book,  or  es- 
pecially his  Bible,  with  one  side  hanging  down  or  doubled  back- 
wards ; — by  drawing  his  hands  behind  him,  or  thrusting  them  into 
his  clothes. 

In  these  things,  as  in  all  others,  connected  with  the  worship  of 
God,  it  is  the  province  of  good  sense  to  avoid  peculiarity  in  trifles. 

*  The  prevailing  taste  in  our  own  country,  like  that  of  England, 
lias  been  to  employ  but  little  action  in  the  pulpit.  Whitefield,  in 
the  last  century,  broke  through  the  trammels  of  custon,  in  a  bold- 
ness and  variety  of  action,  bordering  on  that  of  the  stage.  But  his 
gesture,  like  his  elocution,  was  far  from  the  declamatory.  His 
hand  had  scarcely  less  authority  than  Caesar's  ;  and  the  movement 
even  of  his  finger  gave  an  electric  thrill  to  the  bosoms  of  his  hear- 
ers. Massillon's  action  was  less  diversified,  and  less  powerful, 
though  more  refined,  as  was  the  general  character  of  his  eloquence. 

t  On  this  principle  it  is,  that  gesture  is  felt  to  be  so  unseason- 
able in  personating  God,  and  in  addresses  made  to  him.  When  we 
introduce  him  as  speaking  to  man,  or  when  we  speak  of  his  adorable 
perfections,  or  to  him  in  prayer,  the  sentiments  inspired  demand 
composure  and  reverence  of  manner.  Good  taste  then  can  never  ap- 
prove the  stretching  upward  of  the  hands  at  full  length,  in  the  man- 
ner of  Whitefield,  at  the  commencement  of  prayer  ;  nor  the  frown- 
ing aspect  and  the  repelling  movement  of  the  hand,  with  which  ma- 
ny utter  the  sentence  of  the  final  Judge,  "  Depart,  ye  cursed,"  &c. 

14 


158  RHETORICAL  ACTION. 


More  vivacity  and  variety  is  admissible  in  the  action 
of  a  young  speaker,  than  of  one  who  is  aged  5  and  the 
same  boldness  of  manner  which  is  proper  when  the  orator 
is  kindled  to  a  glowing  fervour,  in  the  close  of  a  discourse, 
would  be  out  of  place  at  its  commencement.  Yet  the  same 
action  is  used  by  some  speakers,  in  the  exordium,  as  in  the 
conclusion,  in  cool  argument  to  the  understanding,  as  in 
impassioned  appeals  to  the  heart.  Good  sense  will  lead 
a  man,  as  Quinctilian  says,  "  To  act  as  well  as  to  speak 
in  a  different  manner,  to  different  persons,  at  different 
times,  and  on  different  subjects." 

Nearly  of  the  same  class  is  another  kind  of  faults, 
arising  from  want  of  discrimination.  Of  this  sort  is  that 
puerile  imitation  which  consists  in  acting  words,  instead 
of  thoughts.  The  declaimer  can  never  utter  the  word 
heart,  without  laying  his  hand  on  his  breast ;  nor  speak  of 
God  ov  heaven,  in  the  most  incidental  manner,  without 
directing  his  eye  and  his  gesture  upwards.  Let  the  same 
principle  be  carried  out,  in  repeating  the  prophet's  descrip- 
tion of  true  tasting ;  "  It  is  not  for  a  man  to  bow  down 
his  head  as  a  bulrush,  &tc." — and  every  one  would  see 
that,  to  conform  the  gesture  to  the  words,  is  but  childish 
mimicry.  This  false  taste  has  been  reprobated  even  on 
the  stage,  as  in  the  following  passage  from  Hamlet. 

— Why  should  the  poor  be  flatter'd  ? 

No,  let  the  candied  tongue  lick  absurd  pomp  ; 

And  crook  the  preg^naut  hing-es  of  the  knee, 

When  thrift  may  follow  fawnii  g. 

.  Give  me  the  man, 


That  is  not  passion's  slave.- 


RHETORICAL  ACTION.  159 

A  certain  actor,  in  repealing  these  lines,  henl  the  knee, 
and  kissed  the  hand,  instead  of  assuming,  as  he  ought, 
the  firm  attitude  and  indignant  look,  proper  to  express 
Hamlet's  contempt  for  a  cringing  parasite.  But  it  is  still 
more  absurd,  in  grave  delivery,  to  regard  mere  phraseolo- 
gy instead  of  sentiment  and  emotion. 

There  is  no  case  in  which  this  want  of  discrimination 
oftener  occurs,  than  in  a  class  of  w^ords  denoting  some- 
times numerical,  and  sometimes  ZocaZ  extent,  accompanied 
by  the  spreading  of  both  hands ;  the  significance  of  this 
gesture  being  destroyed  by  misapplication.  The  follow- 
ing examples  may  illustrate  my  meaning. 

Exam,  1.  "The  goodness  of  God  is  the  source  of 
all  our  blessings."  The  declaimer,  when  he  utters  the 
word  God,  raises  his  eye  and  his  right  hand  ;  and  when 
he  utters  the  word  all,  extends  both  hands.  Now  the  lat- 
ter action  confounds  two  things,  that  are  very  distinct,  num- 
her  and  space.  When  I  recount  all  the  blessings  of  my 
life,  they  are  very  many ;  but  why  should  I  spread  my 
hands,  to  denote  a  multiplicity  that  is  merely  numerical 
and  successive  ?  when  the  thought  has  no  concern  with  lo- 
cal dimensions  any  more  than  in  this  case  :  '^  Jill  the  days 
of  Methusaleh  were  nine  hundred  and  sixty  years." 

Exam,  2,  All  the  actions  of  our  lives  will  be  brought 
into  judgment."  Here  again,  the  thought  is  that  of  arith- 
metical succession,  not  of  local  extent ;  and  if  any  gesture 
is  demanded,  it  is  not  the  spreading  of  both  hands. 

Exam,  3.  "  I  bring  you  glad  tidings  of  great  joy, 
which  shall  be  to  all  people."  Here  the  local  extent 
which  belongs  to  the  thought,  is  properly  expressed  by 
action  of  both  hands. 


160  RHETORICAL  ACTION. 

If  there  is  language  in  action,  it  requires  propriety  and 
precision.  The  indiscriminate  movement  of  the  hands 
signi6es  nothing.  Want  of  emphasis  in  this  language  is  a 
great,  but  common  fault.  When  the  speaker,  however, 
has  an  emphatic  stroke  of  the  hand,  its  effect  is  lost  if 
that  stroke  does  not  accompany  the  emphasis  of  the  voice ; 
that  is,  if  it  falls  one  syllable  after  the  stress  of  voice,  or 
if  it  is  disproportionate  in  force  to  that  stress,  in  the  same 
degree  its  meaning  is  impaired.  The  direction  of  the 
hand  too,  in  which  the  emphatic  stroke  terminates,  is  sig- 
nificant. The  elevated  termination  suits  high  passion  ; 
the  horizontal,  decision  ;  the  downward,  disapprobation. 
And  any  of  these  may  denote  definitive  designation  of  par- 
ticular objects. 

Another  fault  of  action  is  excess.  In  some  cases  it  is 
too  constant.  To  enter  on  a  discourse  with  passionate 
exclamations  and  high  wrought  figures,  while  the  speaker 
and  audience  are  both  cool,  is  not  more  absurd  than  to 
begin  with  continual  gesticulation.  No  man  probably  ev- 
er carried  the  language  of  action  to  so  high  a  pitch  as  Gar- 
rick.  Yet  Dr.  Gregory  says  of  this  great  dramatic  speak- 
er ;  "  He  used  less  action  than  any  performer  I  fever  saw  ; 
but  his  action  always  had  meaning ;  it  always  spoke.  By 
being  less  than  that  of  other  actors,  it  had  the  greater 
force."  But  if  constant  action  has  too  much  levity,  even 
for  the  stage,  what  shall  we  say  of  that  man's  taste,  who, 
in  speaking  on  a  subject  of  serious  importance,  can  scarce- 
ly utter  a  sentence  without  extending  his  hands.  "  JVe 
quid  nimis."* 

•  Fenelon  says, — "  Some  time  ag^o,  I  happened  to  fall  asleep  at 
a  sermon  ;  and  when  1  awaked,  the  preacher  was  in  a  very  violent 


1 


RHETORICAL  ACTION.  161 

But  action  may  be  not  merely  too  much  ; — it  may  be 
too  violent.  Such  are  the  habits  of  some  men,  that  they 
can  never  raise  the  hand,  without  stretching  the  arm  at 
full  length  above  tlie  head,  or  in  a  horizontal  sweep  ;  or 
drawing  it  back,  as  if  in  the  attitude  of  prostratring  some 
giant  at  a  stroke.  But  such  a  man  seems  to  forget  that 
gentleness,  and  tranquillity,  and  dignity,  are  attributes  that 
prevail  more  than  violence,  in  real  oratory.  The  full 
stroke  of  the  hand,  with  extended  arm,  should  be  reserv- 
ed for  its  own  appropriate  occasions.  For  common  pur- 
poses, a  smaller  movement  is  sufficient,  and  even  more 
expressive.  The  meaning  of  a  gesture  depends  not  on 
its  compass.  The  tap  of  Caesar^s  finger  was  enough  to 
awe  a  Senate. 

Action  is  often  too  complex.  When  there  is  want  of 
precision,  in  the  intellectual  habits  of  the  speaker,  he 
adopts  perhaps  two  or  three  gestures  for  one  thought. 
In  this  way  all  simplicity  is  sacrificed  ;  for  though  the  idea 
is  complex,  an  attempt  to  exhibit  each  shade  of  meaning 
by  the  hand,  is  ridiculous.  After  one  principal  stroke, 
every  appendage  to  this,  commonly  weakens  its  effect. 

Another  fault  of  action,  is  too  great  uniformity.  Like 
periodic  tones  and  stress  of  voice,  the  same  gesture  recur- 

agitation,  so  that  I  fancied  at  first,  he  was  pressing  some  important 
point  of  morality.  But  he  was  only  g:iving  notice,  that  on  the  Sun- 
day following^,  he  would  preach  upon  repentance.  1  was  extreme- 
ly surprised  to  hear  so  indifferent  a  thing:  uttered  with  so  much  ve- 
hemence. The  motion  of  the  arm  is  proper,  when  the  orator  is 
very  vehement ;  but  he  ought  not  to  move  his  arm  in  order  to  fl/>- 
pear  vehement.  Nay,  there  are  many  things  that  ought  to  be  pro- 
nounced calmly,  and  without  any  motion." 

14* 


162  RHETORICAL  ACTION. 

ring  constantly,  shows  want  of  discriminating  taste.  "  In  all 
things,"  says  Cicero,  "  repetition  is  the  parent  of  satiety."^ 

This  barren  sameness  usually  prevails,  in  a  man's 
manner,  just  in  proportion  as  it  is  ungraceful.  Suppose, 
for  example,  that  he  is  accustomed  to  raise  his  arm  by  a 
motion  from  the  shoulder,  without  bending  the  elbow  5 
or  that  the  elbow  is  bent  to  a  right  angle,  and  thrust  out- 
ward ;  or  that  it  is  drawn  close  to  the  side,  so  that  the  ac- 
tion is  confined  to  the  lower  part  of  the  arm  and  hand  ; 
or  that  the  hand  is  drawn  to  the  left,  by  bending  the  wrist 
so  far  as  to  give  the  appearance  of  constraint,  or  backwards 
so  far  as  to  contract  the  thumb  and  fingers ; — in  all  these 
cases,  the  motion  is  at  once  stiff  and  unvaried. 

The  same  thing  is  commonly  true  of  all  short,  abrupt, 
and  jerking  movements.     These  remind  you   of  the  dry 
limb  of  a  tree,  forced  into  short  and  rigid  vibrations  by  the 
wind  ;  and  not  of  the  luxuriant  branch  of  the   willow, 
gently  and  variously  waving  before  the  breeze.     The  ac- 
tion of  the  graceful  speaker,  is  easy  and  flowing,  as  well  as 
forcible.      His  hand    describes  curve  lines,  rather  than 
right  or  acute  angles ;  and   when  its  office  is  finished,  in 
any  case,  it  drops  gently  down  at  his  side,  instead  of  be- 
ing snatched  away,  as  from  the  bite  of  a  reptile.     The  ac- 
tion of  young  children  is  never  deficient  in  grace  or  variety  j 
because  it  is  not  vitiated  by  diffidence,  affectation,  or  habit. 
There  is  one  more  class  of  faults,  which  seem  to  arise 
from  an  attempt  to  shun  such  as  I  have  just  described, 
and  which  I  cannot  better  designate,  than  by  the  phrase 
mechanical  variety. 
*      •         I   ,1     . —  '  ■  ■  ■         'I    I .... ,  

*  '.'  When  a  preacher,"  says  Reybaz,  "  has  only  one  gesture,  it 
■will  necessarily,  be  incorrect  or  insignificant ; — a  dull  uniformity  of 
•^  is  the  common  defect  of  preachers." 


RHETORICAL  ACTION.  163 


This  is  analogous  to  that  variety  of  tones^  which  is  pro- 
duced by  an  effort  to  be  various,  without  regard  to  sense. 
The  diversity  of  notes,  like  those  of  the  chiming  clock,  re- 
turns periodically,  but  is  always  the  same  diversity.  So  a 
speaker  may  have  several  gestures,  which  he  repeats  al- 
ways in  the  same  successive  order.  The  most  common 
form  of  this  artificial  variety,  consists  in  the  alternate  use 
of  the  right  hand  and  the  left.  I  have  seen  a  preacher, 
who  aimed  to  avoid  sameness  of  action,  in  the  course  of 
a  few  sentences,  extend  first  his  right  hand,  then  his  left, 
and  then  both.  This  order  was  continued  through  the 
discourse  ;  so  that  these  three  gestures,  whatever  might 
be  the  sentiment,  returned,  with  nearly  periodical  exact- 
ness. Now  whatever  variety  is  attained  in  this  way,  is  at 
best  but  a  uniform  variety ;  and  is  the  more  disgusting, 
in  proportion  as  it  is  the  more  studied  and  artificial. 

But  the  question  arises,  does  this  charge  always  lie 
against  the  use  of  the  left  hand  alone  ?  I  answer,  by  no 
means.  The  almost  universal  precepts,  however,  in  the  in- 
stitutes of  oratory,  giving  precedence  to  the  right  hand,  are 
not  without  reason.  It  has  been  said,  indeed,  that  the  con- 
finement of  the  left  hand  in  holding  up  the  robe,  was  orig- 
inally the  ground  of  this  preference  ;  and  that  this  is  a 
reason  which  does  not  exist  in  modern  times.  But  how 
did  it  happen  that  this  service,  denoting  inferiority,  came 
to  be  assigned  to  the  left^  rather  than  the  right  hand  i 
Doubtless  because  this  accords  with  a  general  usage  of 
n>en,  througli  all  time.  When  Joseph  brought  his  two 
sons  to  be  blessed  by  Jacob,  the  patriarch  signified  which 
was  the  object  of  special  benediction,  by  placing  the  right 
hand  on  his  head,  and  4he  left  on  the  head  of  the  other 


164  RHETORICAL  ACTION. 

As  a  token  of  respect  to  his  mother,  Solomon  gav^e  her  a 
seat  on  the  right  hand  of  his  throne.  In  the  same  man- 
ner the  righteous  will  be  distinguished  from  the  wicked, 
in  the  final  judgment.  Throughout  the  Bible,  the  right 
hand  is  spoken  of  as  the  emblem  of  honour,  strength,  au* 
thority,  or  victory. 

The  common  act  of  salutation  is  expressed  by  the 
right  hand ;  and  hence  its  name  dextra,  from  dtxo^iai  to 
take,  that  is  by  the  hand  ;  and  hence,  by  figure,  the  En- 
glish word  dextrous,  denoting  skill  and  agility.  General 
custom  has  always  given  preference  to  the  right  hand, 
when  only  one  is  used,  in  the  common  offices  of  life.  The 
sword  of  the  warrior,  the  knife  of  the  surgical  operator, 
the  pen  of  the  author,  belong  to  this  hand.  With  us,  to 
call  a  man  left  handed  is  to  call  him  awkward  ;  and  it  is  a 
curious  fact  that  the  Sandwich  Islanders  use  the  same 
phrase  to  denote  ignorance  or  unskilfulness.  To  give 
the  left  hand  in  salutation,  denotes  a  careless  familiarity 
and  levity,  never  offered  to  a  superior.  To  employ  this 
in  taking  an  oath,  or  in  giving  what  is  called  the  ^' right 
hand  of  fellowship,"  as  a  religious  act,  would  be  deemed 
rusticity  or  irreverent  trifling. 

Now  so  long  as  this  general  usage  exists,  without  in- 
quiring here  into  its  origin,  it  is  manifest  that  the  left  hand 
can  never,  without  incongruity,  assume  precedence  over 
the  right,  so  as  to  perform  alone  the  principal  gesture,  with 
the  few  exceptions  mentioned  below.  To  raise  this  hand, 
for  example,  as  expressing  authority  ;  or  to  lay  it  on  the 
breast,  in  an  appeal  to  conscience,  would  be  hkely  to  ex- 
cite a  smile.  Though  it  often  acts,  with  great  significance, 
in  conjunction  with  the  right  hand,  the  only  cases,  that  I 


RHETORICAL  ACTION.  166 

recollect,  where  it  can  with  propriety  act  alone,  in  the 
principal  gesture,  are  these  : 

First,  when  the  left  hand  is  spoken  of  in  contradistinc- 
tion from  the  right;  "He  shall  set  the  sheep  on  his 
right  hand,  but  the  goats  on  his  left."  Secondly,  when 
there  is  local  allusion  to  some  object  on  the  left  of  the 
speaker.  For  example,  if  his  face  is  to  the  north,  and  he 
points  to  the  setting  sun,  it  is  better  perhaps  to  do  it  with 
his  left  hand,  than  to  turn  his  body,  so  as  to  make  it  con- 
venient to  do  it  with  his  right.  Thirdly,  when  two  things 
are  contrasted,  though  without  local  allusion,  if  the  case 
requires  that  one  be  marked  by  the  action  of  the  right 
hand,  it  is  often  best  to  mark  the  antithetic  object  with  the 
left. 

But  I  would  not  magnify,  by  dwelling  on  it,  a  ques- 
tion of  so  small  moment.  It  would  have  been  despatched 
in  a  sentence  or  two,  had  it  not  seemed  proper  to  show, 
that  what  some  are  disposed  to  call  an  arbitrary  and 
groundless  precept  of  ancient  rhetoric,  has  its  foundation 
in  a  general  and  instinctive  feeling  of  propriety.  Still  I 
would  say,  that  when  a  departure  from  this  precept  results, 
not  from  affectation,  but  from  emotion,  it  is  far  better  than 
any  minute  observance  of  propriety,  which  arises  from 
a  coldly  correct  and  artificial  habit. 

In  finishing  this  chapter,  the  general  remark  may  be 
made,  as  applying  to  action,  and  indeed  to  the  whole  sub- 
ject of  delivery,  that  many  smaller  blemishes  are  scarcely 
observed  in  a  speaker,  who  is  deeply  interested  in  his  sub- 
ject ;  while  the  affectation  of  excellence  is  never  excus- 
ed by  judicious  hearers.  To  be  a  first-rate  orator,  re- 
quires a  combination  of  powers  wliich  few  men  possess ; 


166  RHfiTORICiLL  ACTION. 


and  no  means  of  cultivation  can  ever  confer  these  highest 
requisites  for  eloquence,  on  public  speakers  generally. 
But  neither  is  it  necessary  to  eminent  usefulness,  that 
these  requisites  should  be  possessed  by  all.  Any  man, 
who  has  good  sense,  and  a  warm  heart,  if  his  faculties  for 
elocution  are  not  essentially  defective,  and  if  he  is  patient 
and  faithful  in  the  discipline  of  these  faculties,  may  ren- 
der himself  an  agreeable  and  impressive  speaker. 


EXERCISES, 

PART  I. 


DESIGNED  TO  ILLUSTRATE  THE  PRINCIPLES  QP 
RHETORICAL  DELIVERY. 


REMARKS  AND  DIRECTIONS. 

These  Exercises  are  divided  into  two  parts.  The 
first  part  consists  of  selections,  which  are  made  expressly 
to  illustrate  the  principles  laid  down  in  the  foregoing  an- 
alysis OF  RHETORICAL  DELIVERY.  The  classification  of 
these  selections  is  denoted,  in  each  case,  by  the  number, 
corresponding  with  the  marginal  figures  in  the  Analysis. 
In  using  these  exercises  of  the  first  part,  the  student  may 
be  assisted  by  the  following  remarks  and  directions. 

1.  When  a  principle  is  supposed  to  be  already  famil- 
iar, the  illustrations  will  be  few ;  in  cases  of  more  difficul- 
ty, or  more  importance,  they  will  be  extended  to  greater 
length. 

2.  In  these  examples,  a  rhetorical  notation  is  applied, 
to  designate  inflection,  emphasis,  and,  in  some  instances, 
modulation.  When  a  word  has  but  a  moderate  stress,  it 
will  often  be  distinguished  only  by  the  mark  of  inflection  ; 


168  REMARKS  AND  DIRECTIONS. 

when  the  stress  amounts  to  decided  emphasis,  it  will  be 
denoted  by  the  Italic  type  ;  and  sometimes  when  strong- 
ly intensive,  by  small  capitals.  The  reader  is  desired  to 
remember  too,  that  in  passages  taken  from  the  Scriptures, 
Italic  words  are  not  used  as  in  the  English  Bible,  but 
simply  to  express  emphasis. 

3.  This  rhetorical  notation  is  applied,  only  to  cases  in 
which  my  own  judgment  is  pretty  clear ;  though,  in  many 
of  these  cases,  1  am  aware  that  there  is  room  for  diversity 
of  taste.  Should  this  notation  be  found  useful  in  practice, 
it  may  be  more  extensively  applied,  in  a  separate  collec- 
tion of  exercises. 

4.  The  principle  to  be  illustrated  by  any  Exercise, 
should  be  carefully  examined  and  well  understood,  in  the 
first  place  ;  and,  until  the  student  has  become  quite  famil- 
iar with  this  praxis  of  the  voice,  he  should  not  attempt  to 
read  an  example,  longer  or  shorter,  without  previous  at- 
tention to  it. 

6.  The  reader  will  observe  that  only  very  short  ex- 
amples can  be  expected  to  apply  exclusively  to  a  single 
principle.  On  account  of  the  great  labor  and  difficulty 
of  selecting  such  examples,  longer  ones  are  often  chosen, 
which  include  other  principles  besides  the  one  specially  in 
Tiew.  It  will  be  deemed  sufficient,  in  such  cases,  that 
there  is  an  obvious  relation  to  the  point  chiefly  to  be  re- 
garded. 


Ex.  1,2.]         EXERCISES  ON  ARTICULATION.  169 


EXEIiCISES  ON  AKTICTTIiATION'. 


1.]  Page  27.     Difficult  articulation  from  immediate  suc- 
cession of  the  same  or  similar  sounds, 

1.  The  youth  hates  study. 

2.  The  wild  beasts  straggled  through  the  vale. 

3.  The  steadfast  stranger  in  the  forests  sprayed. 

4.  It  was  the  finest  street  of  the  city. 

5.  When  Aja«r  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw. 

6.  It  was  the  severest  s^orm  of  the  season,  but  the 
mdiSts  stood  through  the  gale. 

7.  That  hsts  tiW  night.  ) 
That  la5^  5^11  night.  ) 

8.  He  can  debate  on  either  side  of  the  question.  ) 
He  can  debate  on  neither  side  of  the  question,  y 

9.  Who  ever  imagined  such  an  ocean  to  exist  ?  ) 
Who  ever  imagined  such  a  notion  to  exist  ?  ) 


-2.]  Page  28.     Difficult  succession  of  consonants  without 

accent, 

1.  He  has  taken  leave  of  terrestrial  trials  and  enjoy- 
ments, and  is  laid  in  the  grave,  the  common  receptacle  and 
home  of  mortals. 

2.  Though  this  barbarous  chief  received  us  very  cour- 
teously, and  spoke  to  us  very  communicatively  at  the  first 
interview,  we  soon  lost  our  confidence  in  the  disinterest- 
edness of  his  motives. 

3.  Though  there  could  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  reason- 
ableness of  our  request,  yet  he  saw  {it  peremptorily  to  re- 

15 


170  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.  3,  4, 

fuse  it,  and  authoritatively  to  require  that  we  should  de- 
part from  the  country.  As  no  alternative  was  left  us,  we 
unhesitatingly  prepared  to  obey  this  arbitrary  mandate. 

3.]  Page  29.     Tendency  to  slide  over  unaccented  voufels 
The  brief  illastration  of  this  at  p.  30  is  perhaps  sufficient. 


EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION. 

4.]  Page  47.     The  disjunctive  (or)  has  the  rising  tn- 
flection  before^  and  the  falling  after  it. 

1.  Then  said  Jesus  unto  them,  I  will  ask  you  one 
thing  ;  Is  it  lawful  on  the  sabbath-days  to  do  good,  or  to 
do  ev^l  ?  to  save  life,  or  to  destroy  it  ? 

2.  Whether  we  are  hurt  by  a  mad  or  a  blind  man, 
the  pain  is  still  the  same.  And  with  regard  to  those  who 
are  undone,  it  avails  little  whether  it  be  by  a  man  who 
deceives  them,  or  by  one  who  is  himself  deceived. 

3.  Has  God  forsaken  the  works  of  his  own  hands  ? 
or  does  he  always  graciously  preserve,  and  keep  and 
guide  them  ? 

4.  Therefore,  O  ye  judges !  you  are  now  to  consid- 
er, whether  it  is  more  probable  that  the  deceased  was 
murdered  by  the  man  who  inherits  his  estate,  or  by  him, 
who  inherits  nothing  but  beggary  by  the  same  death.  By 
the  man  who  was  raised  from  penury  to  plenty,  or  by  him 
who  was  brought  from  happiness  to  misery.  By  him 
whom  the  lust  of  lucre  has  inflamed  with  the  most  invet- 


Ex.  5.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  171 

erate  hatred  against  his  own  relaiions  ;  or  by  him  whose 
life  was  such,  that  he  never  knew  what  gain  was,  but  from 
the  product  of  his  own  labours.  By  him,  who  of  all 
dealers  in  the  trade  of  blood,  was  the  most  audacious ; 
or  by  him  who  was  so  little  accustomed  to  the  forum  and 
trials,  that  he  dreads  not  only  the  benches  of  a  court,  but 
the  very  town.  In  short,  ye  judges,  what  I  think  most  to 
this  point  is,  you  are  to  consider  whether  it  is  most  likely 
that  an  enemy,  or  a  son,  would  be  guilty  of  this  murder. 
5.  As  for  the  particular  occasion  of  these  (charity) 
schools,  there  cannot  any  offer  more  worthy  a  generous 
mind.  Would  you  do  a  handsome  thing  without  return  ? 
— do  it  for  an  infant  that  is  not  sensible  of  the  obligation.^ 
Would  you  do  it  for  the  public  good  ? — do  it  for  one  who 
w^ill  be  an  honest  artificer.  Would  you  do  it  for  the  sake 
of  heaven  ? — give  it  for  one  who  shall  be  instructed  in  the 
worship  of  Him,  for  w^hose  sake  you  gave  it. 

5.]  Page  47.      The  direct  question  has  the  rising  infiec*- 
tiouy  and  the  answer  has  the  falling. 

1.  Will  the  Lord  cast  off  for  ever  ?  and  will  he  be 
favourable  no  more  ?  Is  his  mercy  clean  gone  for  ever  ? 
doth  his  promise  fail  for  evermore  ?  Hath  God  forgotten 
to  be  gracious  ?  hath  he  in  anger  shut  up  his  tender 
mercies  f 

2.  Is  not  this  the  carpenter's  son  ?  is  not  his  mother 
called  Mary  ?  and  his  brethren,  James,  and  Joses,  and 
Simon,  and  Judas  ?  and  his  sisters,  are  they  not  all  with  us  ? 

3.  Are  we  intended  for  actors  in  the  grand  drama  of 

*  DisjuDQtive  or  is  understood. 


172  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.  5. 

eternity  ?  Are  we  candidates  for  the  plaudit  of  the  ra- 
tional creation  ?  Are  we  formed  to  participate  the  su- 
preme beatitude  in  communicating  happiness  ?  Are  we 
destined  to  co-operate  with  God  in  advancing  the  order 
and  perfection  of  his  works  ?  How  sublime  a  creature 
then  is  man  ! 

4.  Can  we  believe  a  thinking  being,  that  is  in  a  per- 
petual progress  of  improvements,  and  travelling  on  from 
perfection  to  perfection,  after  having  just  looked  abroad 
into  the  works  of  its  creator,  and  made  a  few  discoveries 
of  his  infinite  goodness,  wisdom,  and  power,  must  perish 
at  her  first  setting  out,  and  in  the  very  beginning  of  her 
inquiries  ? 

The  folloming  are  examples  of  both  question  and  answer. 

5.  Who  are  the  persons  that  are  most  apt  to  fall  into 
peevishness  and  dejection — that  are  continually  complain- 
ing of  the  world,  and  see  nothing  but  wretchedness  around 
ihem  ?  Are  they  those  whom  want  compels  to  toil  for 
their  daily  bread  ? — who  have  no  treasure  but  the  labor  of 
their  hands — who  rise,  with  the  rising  sun,  to  expose  them- 
selves to  all  the  rigors  of  the  seasons,  unsheltered  from 
the  winter's  cold,  and  unshaded  from  the  summer's  heat? 
No.  The  labors  of  such  are  the  very  blessings  of  their 
condition. 

6.  What,  then,  what  was  Caesar's  object  ?  Do  we  se- 
lect extortioners,  to  enforce  the  laws  of  equity  ?  Do  we 
make  choice  of  profligates,  to  guard  the  morals  of  socie- 
ty ?  Do  we  depute  atheists,  to  preside  over  the  rites  of 
religion  i*  I  will  not  press  the  answer  :  I  need  not  press 
the  answer ;  the  premises  of  my  argument  render  it  un- 


Ex.   5.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  173 

necessary. — What  would  content  you  ?  Talent  ?  No  ! 
Enterprfse  f  No  !  Courage  ^  No  !  Reputation  f  No  ! 
Virtue  ^  No  !  The  men  whom  you  would  select,  should 
possess,  not  one,  but  all,  of  these. 

7.  Can  the  truth  be  discovered  when  the  slaves  of 
the  prosecutor  are  brought  as  witnesses  against  the  per- 
son accused  ?  Let  us  hear  now  what  kind  of  an  exami- 
nation this  was.  Call  in  Ruscio  ;  call  in  Casca.  Did 
Clodius  way-lay  Milo  ?  He  did  :  Drag  them  instantly  to 
execution. — He  did  not  :  Let  them  have  their  liberty. 
What  can  be  more  satisfactory  than  this  method  of  exam- 
ination ? 

8.  Are  you  desirous  that  your  talents  and  abilities  may 
procure  you  respect  ^  Display  them  not  ostentatiously 
to  public  view.  Would  you  escape  the  envy  which  your 
riches  might  excite  f  Let  them  not  minister  to  pride,  but 
adorn  them  with  humility. — There  is  not  an  evil  incident 
to  human  nature  for  which  the  gospel  doth  not  provide  a 
remedy.  Are  you  ignorant  of  many  things  which  it 
highly  concerns  you  to  know  ?  The  gospel  offers  you 
instruction.  Have  you  deviated  from  the  path  of  dilty  ^ 
The  gospel  offers  you  forgTveness.  Do  temptations  sur- 
round you  i  The  gospel  offers  you  the  aid  of  heaven. 
Are  you  exposed  to  misery  ?  It  consoles  you.  Are  you 
subject  to  death  i     It  offers  you  immortality. 

9.  Oh  how  hast  thou  vvhli  jealousy  infected 
The  sweetness  of  affiance  !  show  men  dutiful  ? 
Why  so  didst  thou  :  or  seem  they  grave  and  learned  .'* 
Why  so  didst  thou  :  come  they  of  noble  family  f 
Why  so  didst  thou  :  seem  they  relfgious  ? 

Why  so  didst  thou. 
15* 


174  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.  6,  7. 

6.]  Page  48.      When  {or)  is  used  conjunctively ,  it  has 
the  same  inflection  before  and  after  it. 

In  some  sentences  the  disjunctive  and  the  conjunctive  use  of  or 
are  so  intermingled  as  to  require  careful  attention  to  distinguish 
them. 

1.  Canst  thou  bind  the  unicorn  with  his  band  in  the 
furrow  ?  or  will  he  harrow  the  valleys  after  thee  ?  Wilt 
thou  trust  him  because  his  strength  is  great  ?  or  wilt  thou 
leave  thy  labour  to  him  ?  Gavest  thou  the  goodly  wings 
unto  the  peacocks?  or  wings  and  feathers  unto  the  os- 
trich ?  Canst  thou  draw  out  leviathan  with  a  hook  ?  or 
his  tongue  with  a  cord  which  thou  lettest  down  ?  Canst 
thou  put  a  hook  into  his  nose  ?  or  bore  his  jaw  through 
with  a  thorn  ?  Wilt  thou  play  with  him  as  with  a  bird  ? 
or  wilt  thou  bind  him  for  thy  maidens  ?  Canst  thou  fill 
his  skin  with  barbed  frons  ?    or  his  head  with  fish  spears  i^ 

2.  But  should  these  credulous  infidels  after  all  be  in 
the  right,  and  this  pretended  revelation  be  all  a  fable  ; 
from  believing  it  what  harm  could  ensue  ?  would  it  ren- 
der princes  more  tyrannical,  or  subjects  more  ungoverna- 
ble, the  rich  more  insolent,  or  the  poor  more  disorderly  ? 
Would  it  make  worse  parents  or  children,  husbands,  or 
wives  ;  masters,  or  servants,  friends,  or  neighbours?  or"^ 
would  it  not  make  men  more  virtuous,  and,  consequently, 
more  happ)^  in  every  situation  ? 

7.]  Page  49.     JVegation  opposed  to  affirmation. 

1.  True  charity  is  not   a  meteor,  which  occasionally 

^  The  last  or  is  disjunctive. 


Ex.  7.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  176 

glares  ;  but  a  luminary,  which,  in  its  orderly  and  regular 
course,  dispenses  a  benignant  influence. 

2.  The  humble  do  not  necessarily  regard  themselveg 
as  the  unworthiest  of  all  with  whom  they  are  acquainted  ; 
but,  while  they  acknowledge  and  admire  in  many,  a  de- 
gree of  excellence  which  they  have  not  attained,  they 
perceive,  even  in  those  to  whom  they  are  in  some  respect 
superiors,  much  to  praise,  and  much  to  imitate. 

3.  Think  not,  that  the  influence  of  devotion  is  confin- 
ed to  the  retirement  of  the  closet  and  the  assemblies  of 
the  saints.  Imagine  not,  that,  unconnected  with  the  du- 
ties of  life,  it  is  suited  only  to  those  enraptured  souls, 
whose  feelings,  perhaps,  you  deride  as  romantic  and  vis- 
ionary. It  is  the  guardian  of  innocence — it  is  the  instru- 
ment of  virtue — it  is  a  mean  by  which  every  good  affec- 
tion may  be  formed  and  improved. 

4.  Caesar,  who  would  not  wait  the  conclusion  of  the 
consul's  speech,  generously  replied,  that  he  came  into  It- 
aly not  to  injure  the  liberties  of  Rome  and  its  citizens,  but 
to  restart  them. 

6.  If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the 
Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous  :  and  he  is  the  propiti- 
ation for  our  sins ;  and  not  for  ours  only,  but  also  for  the 
sins  of  the  whole  wdrld, 

6.  It  is  not  the  business  of  virtue  to  extirpate  the  af- 
fections of  the  mind,  but  to  regulate  them. 

7.  These  things  I  say  now,  not  to  insult  one  who  is 
fallen,  but  to  render  more  secure  those  who  stand  ;  not 
to  irritate  the  hearts  of  the  wounded,  but  to  preserve  those 
who  are  not  yet  wounded,  in  sound  health  ;  not  to  sub- 
merge him  who  is  tossed  on  the  billows,  but  to  ijistruct 


176  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.  8. 

those  sailing  before   a  propitious  breeze,  that  they  may 
DOt  be  plunged  beneath  the  waves. 

8.  But  this  is  no  time  for  a  tribunal  of  justice,  but  for 
showing  mercy ;  not  for  accusation,  but  for  philanthropy  ; 
not  for  trial,  but  for  pardon  ;  not  for  sentence  and  execu- 
tion, but  compassion  and  kindness. 


8.]  Page  49.     Comparison  and  contrast, 

1.  By  honor  and  dishonor,  by  evil  report  and  good 
report ;  as  deceivers,  and  yet  true  ;  as  unknown,  and  yet 
well  known ;  as  dying,  and  behold  we  live  ;  as  chasten- 
ed, and  not  killed  ;  as  sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing  ; 
as  poor,  yet  making  many  rich  ;  as  having  nothing,  and 
yet  possessing  all  things. 

Be  ye  not  unequally  yoked  together  with  unbelievers ; 
for  what  fellowship  hath  righteousness  with  unrighteous- 
ness ?  and  what  communion  hath  light  with  darkness  ? 
and  what  concord  hath  Christ  with  Belial  ?  or  what  part 
hath  he  that  believeth  with  an  infidel  f 

2,  The  house  of  the  wicked  shall  be  overthrown  ; 
but  the  tabernacle  of  the  upright  shall  flourish.  There  is  a 
way  which  seemeth  right  unto  a  man  ;  but  the  end  there- 
of are  the  ways  of  death.  Even  in  laughter  the  heart  is 
sorrowful ;  and  the  end  of  that  mirth  is  heaviness.  A 
wise  man  fearelh,  and  departeth  from  evil  ;  but  the  fool 
rageth,  and  is  confident.  The  wicked  is  driven  away  in 
his  wfckedness  ;  but  the  righteous  hath  hope  in  his  death. 
Righteousness  exaltelh  a  nation  ;  but  sin  is  a  reproach  to 
any  people.  Tlie  king's  favour  is  toward  a  wise  servant ; 
but  his  wrath  is  against  him  that  causeth  shame. 


Ex.  8.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  17f 


3.  Between  fame  and  true  honor  a  distinction  is  to  be 
made.  The  former  is  a  blind  and  noisy  applause  :  the 
latter  a  more  silent  and  internal  homage.  Fame  floats  on 
the  breath  of  the  multitude  :  honor  rests  on  the  judgment 
of  the  thinking.  Fame  may  give  praise,  while  it  witholds 
esteem  ;  true  honor  implies  esteem,  mingled  with  respect. 
The  one  regards  particular  distinguished  talents :  the  oth- 
er looks  up  to  the  whole  character. 

4.  The  most  frightful  disorders  arose  from  the  state  of 
feudal  anarchy.  Force  decided  all  things.  Europe  was 
one  great  field  of  battle,  where  the  weak  struggled  for 
freedom,  and  the  strong  for  dominion.  The  king  was 
without  power,  and  the  nobles  without  principle.  They 
were  tyrants  at  home,  and  robbers  abroad.  Nothing  re^ 
mained  to  be  a  check  upon  ferocity  and  violence. 

5.  These  two  qualities,  delicacy  and  correctness, 
mutually  imply  each  other.  No  taste  can  be  exquisitely 
delicate  without  being  correct ;  nor  can  be  thoroughly 
correct  without  being  delicate.  But  still  a  predominancy 
of  one  or  other  quality  in  the  mixture  is  often  visible. 
The  power  of  delicacy  is  chiefly  seen  in  discerning  the 
true  merit  of  a  work ;  the  power  of  correctness,  in  re- 
jecting false  pretensions  to  merit.  Delicacy  leans  more 
to  feeling;  correctness  more  to  reason  and  judgment. 
The  former  is  more  the  gift  of  nature  ;  the  latter,  more 
the  product  of  culture  and  art.  Among  the  ancient  crit- 
ics, Longinus  possessed  most  delicacy  ;  Aristotle,  most 
correctness.  Among  the  moderns,  Mr.  Addison  is  a 
high  example  of  delicate  taste  ;  Dean  Swift,  had  he  writ- 
ten on  the  subject  of  criticism,  would  perhaps  have  affor- 
ded the  example  of  a  correct  one. 


178  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.  6, 

6.  Reason,  eloquence,  and  every  art  which  ever  has 
been  studied  among  mankind,  may  be  abused,  and  may 
prove  dangerous  in  the  hands  of  bad  men ;  but  it  were 
perfectly  childish  to  contend,  ihat,  upon  this  account,  they 
ought  to  be  abolished. 

7.  To  Bourdaloue,  the  French  critics  attribute  more 
solidity  and  close  reasoning ;  to  Massillon,  a  more  pleas- 
ing and  engaging  manner.  Bourdaloue  is  indeed  a  great 
reasoner,  and  inculcates  his  doctrines  with  much  zeal,  pi- 
ety, and  earnestness  :  but  his  style  is  verbose,  he  is  disa- 
greeably full  of  quotations  from  the  Fathers,  and  he  wants 
imagination. 

8.  Homer  was  the  greater  genius ;  Virgil  the  better 
artist :  in  the  one,  we  most  admire  the  man ;  in  the  oth- 
er, the  work.  Homer  hurries  us  with  a  commanding  im- 
petuosity ;  Virgil  leads  us  with  an  attractive  majesty. 
Homer  scatters  with  a  generous  profusion  ;  Virgil  bestows 
with  a  careful  magnificence.  Homer,  like  the  Nile,  pours 
out  his  riches  with  a  sudden  overflow  ;  Virgil,  like  a  river 
in  its  banks,  with  a  constant  stream. — And  when  we  look 
upon  their  machines.  Homer  seems,  like  his  own  Jupiter 
in  his  terrors,  shaking  Olympus,  scattering  the  lightnings, 
and  firing  the  heavens ;  Virgil,  like  the  same  power  in 
his  benevolence,  counselling  with  the  gods,  laying  plans 
for  empires,  and  ordering  his  whole  creation. 

9.  Dryden  knew  more  of  man  in  his  general  nature, 
and  Pope  in  his  local  manners.  The  notions  of  Dryden 
were  formed  by  comprehensive  speculation,  those  of  Pope 
by  minute  attention.  There  is  more  dignity  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  Dry'den,  and  more  certainty  in  that  of  Pope. 

Poetry  was  not  the  sole  praise  of  either ;  for  both  ex- 


Ex.  8.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  179 


celled  likewise  in  prose  :  but  Pope  did  not  borrow  his 
prose  from  his  predecessor.  The  style  of  Dryden  is 
capricious  and  varied  ;  that  of  Pope  is  cautious  and  uni- 
form. Dryden  obeys  the  motions  of  his  own  mind  ; 
Pope  constrains  his  mind  to  his  own  rules  of  composition. 
Dryden  is  sometimes  vehement  and  rapid ;  Pope  is  al- 
ways smooth,  uniform,  and  gentle.  Dryden's  page  is  a 
natural  field,  rising  into  inequalities,  and  diversified  by 
the  varied  exuberance  of  abundant  vegetation  ;  Pope's 
is  a  velvet  lawn,  shaven  by  the  scythe,  and  levelled  by 
the  roller. — Dryden's  performances,  were  always  hasty  ; 
either  excited  by  some  external  occasion,  or  extorted  by 
domestic  necessity  :  he  composed  without  consideration^ 
and  published  without  correction.  What  his  mind  could 
supply  at  call,  or  gather  in  one  excursion,  was  all  that  he 
sought  and  all  that  he  gave.  The  dilatory  caution  of 
Pope  enabled  him  to  condense  his  sentiments,  to  mul- 
tiply his  images,  and  to  accumulate  all  that  study  might 
produce,  or  chance  might  supply.  If  the  flights  of  Dry- 
den therefore,  are  hfgher.  Pope  continues  longer  on  the 
wing.  If  of  Dryden's  fire,  the  blaze  is  brfghter ;  of 
Pope's  the  heat  is  more  regular  and  constant.  Drydefl 
often  surpasses  expectation,  and  Pope  never  falls  below 
it.  Dryden  is  read  with  frequent  astonishment,  and  Pope 
with  perpetual  deltght. 

10.  Never  before  were  so  many  opposing  interests, 
passions,  and  principles,  committed  to  such  a  decision.  On 
one  side  an  attachment  to  the  ancient  order  of  things,  on 
the  other  a  passionate  desire  of  change  ;  a  wish  in  some 
to  perpetuate,  in  others  to  destroy  every  thing  ;  every 
abuse  sacred  in  the  eyes  of  the  former,  every  foundation 


180  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.  8,  9. 

attempted  to  be  demolished  by  the  latter ;  a  jealousy  of 
power  shrinking  from  the  slightest  innovation,  pretensions 
to  freedom  pushed  to  madness  and  anarchy  ;  superstition 
in  all  its  dotage,  impiety  in  all  its  fury  ;  whatever  in  short, 
could  be  found  most  discordant  in  the  principles,  or  vio- 
lent in  the  passions  of  men,  were  the  fearful  ingredients 
which  the  hand  of  Divine  justice  selected  to  mingle  in 
this  furnace  of  wrath. 

9.]  Page  61.     The  pause  of  suspension  requires  the  ris- 
ing slide. 

In  the  Analysis,  several  kinds  of  sentences  are  classed,  to  which 
this  rule  applies.  But  as  the  principle  is  the  same  in  all,  no  dis- 
tinction is  necessary  in  the  Exercises. 

1.  Now  in  the  fifteenth  year  of  the  reign  of  Tiberius 
Cesar,  Pontius  Pilate  being  governor  of  Judea,  and  Her- 
od being  tetrarch  of  Galilee,  and  his  brother  Philip  te- 
trarch  of  Iturea  and  of  the  region  of  Trachonitis,  and  Ly- 
sanias  the  tetrarch  of  Abilene,  Annas  and  Caiaphas  being 
the  high  priests,  the  word  of  God  came  unto  John  the 
son  of  Zacharias  in  the  wilderness. 

2,  For  if  God  spared  not  the  angels  that  sinned,  but 
cast  them  down  to  hell,  and  delivered  them  into  chains  of 
darkness,  to  be  reserved  unto  judgment ;  And  spared  not 
the  old  world,  but  saved  Noah  the  eighth  person,  a  preach- 
er of  righteousness,  bringing  in  the  flood  upon  the  world 
of  the  ungodly  ;  And  turning  the  cities  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah  into  ashes,  condemned  them  with  an  overthrow, 
making  them  an  ensample  unto  those  that  after  should  live 
angodly  ;  And  delivered  just  Lot,  vexed  with  the  filthy 


Ex.  9.]  EXERCISES  ON  INrLECTION.  181 

conversation  of  the  wicked  :  (For  that  righteous  raan 
dwelling  among  them,  in  seeing  and  hearing,  vexed  his 
righteous  soul  from  day  to  day  with  their  unlawful  deeds  ;) 
The  Lord  knoweth  how  to  deliver  the  godly  out  of  temp- 
tations, and  to  reserve  the  unjust  unto  the  day  of  judg- 
ment to  be  punished. 

3.  I  am  content  to  wave  the  argument  I  might  draw 
from  hence  in  favour  of  my  clfent,  whose  destiny  was  so 
peculiar,  that  he  could  not  secure  his  own  safety,  without 
securing  yours  and  that  of  the  republic  at  the  same  time. 
If  he  could  not  do  it  lawfully,  there  is  no  room  for  at- 
tempting his  defence.  But  if  reason  teaches  the  learned, 
necessity  the  Barbarian,  common  custom  all  nations  in 
general ;  and  if  even  nature  itself  instructs  the  brutes  to 
defend  their  bodies,  limbs,  and  lives,  when  attacked,  by 
all  possible  methods ;  you  cannot  pronounce  this  action 
criminal,  without  determining  at  the  same  time  that  who- 
ever falls  into  the  hands  of  a  highwayman,  must  of  neces* 
sity  perish  either  by  his  sword  or  your  decisions.  Had 
Milo,  been  of  this  opinion,  he  would  certainly  have  cho- 
sen to  fall  by  the  hand  of  Clodius,  who  had  more  than 
once,  before  this,  made  an  attempt  upon  his  life,  rather 
than  be  executed  by  your  order,  because  he  had  not 
tamely  yielded  himself  a  victim  to  his  rage.  But  if  none 
of  you  are  of  this  opinion,  the  proper  question  is,  not 
whether  Clodius  was  killed  ?  for  that  we  grant :  but 
whether  justly  or  unjustly  ;  an  inquiry  of  which  many 
precedents  are  to  be  found. 

4.  Seeing  then  that  the  soul  has  many  different  facul- 
ties, or  in  other  words,  many  different  ways  of  acting ; 
that  it  can  be   intensely   pleased  or  made  happy  by  ill 

16 


182  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.  9. 


these  different  faculties,  or  ways  of  acHng  ;  that  it  may  be 
endowed  with  several  latent  faculties,  which  it  is  not  at 
present  in  a  condition  to  exert ;  that  we  cannot  believe 
the  soul  is  endowed  with  any  faculty  which  is  of  no  use  to 
it ;  that  whenever  any  one  of  these  faculties  is  transcend- 
ently  pleased,  the  soul  is  in  a  state  of  happiness  ;  and  in 
the  last  place,  considering  that  the  happiness  of  another 
world  is  to  be  the  happiness  of  the  whole  man  ;  who  can 
question  but  that  there  is  an  infinite  variety  in  those  pleas- 
ures we  are  speaking  of;  and  that  this  fulness  of  joy  will 
be  made  up  of  all  those  pleasures  which  the  nature  of  the 
soul  is  capable  of  receiving  ? 

5.  When  the  gay  and  smiling  aspect  of  things  has  be- 
gun to  leave  the  passages  to  a  man's  heart  thus  thought- 
lessly unguarded  5  when  kind  and  caressing  looks  of  eve- 
ry object  without,  that  can  flatter  his  senses,  has  conspired 
with  the  enemy  within,  to  betray  him  and  put  him  off  his 
defence ;  when  music  likewise  hath  lent  her  aid,  and  tri- 
ed her  power  upon  the  passions;  when  the  voice  of  sing- 
ing men,  and  the  voice  singing  women,  with  the  sound 
of  the  viol  and  the  lute,  have  broke  in  upon  his  soul,  and 
in  some  tender  notes  have  touched  the  secret  springs  of 
rapture, — that  moment  let  us  dissect  and  look  into  his 
heart; — see  how  vain,  how  weak,  how  empty  a  thing 
it  is! 

6.  Beside  the  ignorance  of  masters  who  teach  the 
first  rudiments  of  reading,  and  the  want  of  skill,  or  negli- 
gence in  that  article,  of  those  who  teach  the  learned  lan- 
guages ;  beside  the  erroneous  manner,  which  the  untu- 
tored pupils  fall  into,  through  the  want  of  early  attention 
in  masters,  to  correct  small  faults  in  the  beginning,  which 


Ex.  9.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  183 

increase  and  gain  strength  with  years  ;  beside  bad  habits 
contracted  from  imitation  of  particular  persons,  or  the 
contagion  of  example,  from  a  general  prevalence,  of  a 
certain  tone  or  chant  in  reading  or  reciting,  peculiar  to 
each  school,  and  regularly  transmitted  from  one  genera- 
tion of  boys  to  another  :  beside  all  these,  which  are  fruit- 
ful sources  of  vicious  elocution,  there  is  one  fundamental 
error,  in  the  method  universally  used  in  teaching  to  read, 
which  at  first  gives  a  wrong  bias,  and  leads  us  ever  after 
blindfold  from  the  right  path,  under  the  guidance  of  a 
false  rule. 

7.  The  bounding  of  Satan  over  the  walls  of  paradise, 
his  sitting  in  the  shape  of  a  cormorant  upon  the  tree  of 
life,  which  stood  in  the  centre  of  it,  and  overtopped  all 
the  other  trees  in  the  garden  ;  his  alighting  among  the 
herd  of  animals,  which  are  so  beautifully  represented  as 
playing  about  Adam  and  E've  ;  together  with  his  trans- 
forming himself  into  dijfferent  shapes,  in  order  to  hear  their 
conversation,  are  circumstances,  that  give  an  agreeable 
surprise  to  the  reader,  and  are  devised  with  great  art,  to 
connect  that  series  of  adventures,  in  which  the  poet  has 
engaged  this  artifice  of  fraud. 

8.  To  find  the  nearest  way  from  truth  to  truth  ;  or 
from  purpose  to  effect :  not  to  use  more  instruments  where 
fewer  will  be  sufficient ;  not  to  move  by  wheels  and  lev- 
ers, what  will  give  w^ay  to  the  naked  hand,  is  the  great 
proof  of  a  healthful  and  vigorous  mind,  neither  feeble  with 
helpless  ignorance  nor  overburdened  with  unwieldy  knowl- 
edge. 

9.  A  guilty  or  a  discontented  mind,  a  mind,  ruffled 
by  ill  fortune,  disconcerted  by  its  own   passions,  soured 


184  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.  9. 

by  neglect,  or  fretting  at  disappointments,  hath  not  leisure 
to  attend  to  the  necessity  or  reasonableness  of  a  kindness 
desired,  nor  a  taste  for  those  pleasures  which  wait  on  be- 
neficence,  which  demand  a  calm  and  unpolluted  heart  to 
relish  them. 

10.  "I  perfectly  remember,  that  when  Calidius  prose- 
cuted Q.  Gallius  for  an  attempt  to  poison  hfm,  and  pre- 
tended that  he  had  the  plainest  proofs  of  it,  and  could 
produce  many  letters,  witnesses,  informations,  and  other 
evidences  to  put  the  truth  of  his  charge  beyond  a  doubt, 
interspersing  many  sensible  and  ingenious  remarks  on  the 
nature  of  the  crime ;  I  remember,"  says  Cicero,  "  that 
when  it  came  to  my  turn  to  reply  to  him,  after  urging  ev- 
ery argument  which  the  case  itself  suggested,  I  insisted 
upon  it  as  a  material  circumstance  in  favour  of  my  client 
that  the  prosecutor,  while  he  charged  him  with  a  design 
against  his  life,  and  assured  us  that  he  had  the  most  in- 
dubitable proofs  of  it  then  in  his  hands,  related  his  story 
with  as  much  ease,  and  as  much  calmness  and  indiffer- 
ence, as  if  nothing  had  happened." — "  Would  it  have 
been  possible,"  exclaimed  Cicero,  (addressing  himself  to 
Calidius,)  "  that  you  should  speak  with  this  air  of  uncon^ 
cern,  unless  the  charge  was  purely  an  invention  of  your 
5wn  i* — and,  above  all,  that  you,  whose  eloquence  has  of- 
ten vindicated  the  wrongs  of  other  people  with  so  much 
spirit,  should  speak  so  coolly  of  a  crime  which  threaten- 
ed your  life  .'^" 

11.  France  and  England  may  each  of  them  have 
some  reason  to  dread  the  increase  of  the  naval  and  mili- 
tary power  of  the  other ;  but  for  either  of  them  to  en- 
vy the  internal  happiness  and  prosperity  of  the  other, 


Ex.9.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  185 

the  cultivation  of  its  lands,  the  advancement  of  its  man- 
ufactures, the  increase  of  its  commerce,  the  security  and 
number  of  its  ports  and  harbors,  its  proficiency  in  all  the 
liberal  arts  "and  scfences,  is  surely  beneath  the  dignity  of 
two  such  great  nations. 

12.  To  acquire  a  thorough  knov^rledge  of  our  own 
hearts  and  characters,  to  restrain  every  irregular  inclina- 
tion,— to  subdue  every  rebellious  passion, — to  purify  the 
motives  of  our  conduct, — to  form  ourselves  to  that  tem- 
perance which  no  pleasure  can  seduce, — to  that  meekness 
which  no  provocation  can  riiffle, — to  that  patience  which 
no  affliction  can  overwhelm,  and  that  integrity  which  no 
interest  can  shake  ;  this  is  the  task  wliich  is  assigned  to 
us, — a  task  which  cannot  be  performed  without  the  ut- 
most diligence  and  care. 

13.  The  beauty  of  a  plain,  the  greatness  of  a  mountain, 
the  ornaments  of  a  building,  the  expression  of  a  picture, 
the  composition  of  a  discourse,  the  conduct  of  a  third 
person,  the  proportions  of  different  quantities  and  num- 
bers, the  various  appearances  which  the  great  machine 
of  the  universe  is  perpetually  exhibiting,  the  secret  wheels 
and  springs  which  produce  them,  all  the  general  subjects 
of  science  and  taste,  are  what  we  and  our  companions  re- 
gard as  having  no  peculiar  relation  to  either  of  us. 

14.  Should  such  a  man,  too  fond  to  rule  alone, 

Bear,  like  the  Turk,  no  brother  near  the  throne. 

View  him  with  scornful,  yet  with  jealous  eyes, 

And  hate  for  arts  that  caus'd  himself  to  rise  ; 

5  Damn  with  faint  praise,  assent  with  civil  leer, 

And  without  sneering  teach  the  rest  to  sneer  ; 

Willing  to  wound,  and  yet  afraid  to  strike, 
16* 


186  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  fEx.  9. 

Just  hint  a  fault,  and  hesitate  dish'ke  ; 
Alike  reserv'd  to  blame,  or  to  connmend, 
A  tim'rous  foe,  and  a  suspicious  friend  ; 
Dreading  even  fools,  by  Flatterers  besieg'd, 
10  And  so  obliging,  that  he  ne'er  oblig'd  ; 
Like  Cato,  give  his  little  senate  laws, 
And  sit  attentive  to  his  own  applause  ; 
While  Wits  and  Templars  every  sentence  rSise, 
And  wonder  with  a  foolish  face  of  prafse — 
16  Who  but  must  laugh,  if  such  a  man  there  be  ? 
Who  would  not  weep,  if 'Atticus  were  he  ! 
15.  For  these  reasons,  the  senate  and  people  of  A  th- 
•ns,  (with  due  veneration  to  the  gods  and   heroes,   and 
guardians  of  the  Athenian   city  and  territory,  whose   aid 
they  now  implore  ;  and   with  due  attention  to  the  virtue 
of  their  ancestors,  to  whom  the  general  liberty  of  Greece 
was  ever  dearer  than  the  particular   interest  of  their  own 
state)  have  resolved  that  a  fleet  of  two   hundred   vessels 
shall  be  sent  to  sea,  the   admiral  to  cruise  within  the 
straits  of  Thermopylae. 

As  to  my  own  abilities  in  speaking,  (for  I  shall  admit 
this  charge,  although  experience  hath  convinced  me,  that 
what  is  called  the  power  of  eloquence  depends  for  the 
most  part  upon  the  hearers,  and  that  the  characters  of 
public  speakers  are  determined  by  that  degree  of  favour 
which  you  vouchsafe  to  each,)  if  long  practice,  I  say, 
bath  given  me  any  proficiency  in  speaking,  you  have  ever 
found  it  devoted  to  my  country.* 

^  I  have  not  thought  it  necessary  tog^ive  examples  of  the  cases 
in  which  emphasif  requires  the  falling  slide  at  the  close  pf  a  paren- 
theiis. 


Ex.   10.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  187 

Of  the  various  exceptions  which  fall  under  the  rule  of  suspend- 
ing  inflection^  the  only  one  which  needs  additional  exemplification, 
is  that,  where  emphasis  requires  the  intensive  falling  slide,  to  ex- 
press the  true  sense.  See  p.  53,  bottom.  In  some  cases  of  this 
sort,  the  omission  of  the  falling  slide  only  weakens  the  meaning  ; 
in  others  it  subverts  it. 

1 .  If  the  population  of  this  country  were  to  remain 
stationary,  a  great  increase  of  effort  would  be  necessary 
to  supply  each  family  with  a  Bible  ;  how  much  more  when 
this  population  is  increasing  every  day. 

2.  The  man  who  cherishes  a  strong  ambition  for  pre- 
ferment, if  he  does  not  fall  into  adulation  and  servility,  is 
in  danger  of  losing  all  manly  independence. 

3.  For  if  the  mighty  works  which  have  been  done  in 
thee  had  been  done  in  Sodom,'^  it  would  have  remained 
unto  this  day. 

10.]  Page  54.     Tender  emotion  inclines  the  voice  to  the 

rising  slide, 
1.  And  when  Joseph  came  home,  they  brought  him 
the  present  which  was  in  their  hand  into  the  house,  and 
bowed  themselves  to  him  to  the  earth. — And  he  asked 
them  of  their  welfare,  and  said,  Is  your  father  well,  the 
old  man  of  whom  ye  spake  f  Is  he  yet  alive  f — And 
they  answered,  thy  servant  our  father  is  in  good  health, 
he  is  yet  alive  :  and  they  bowed  down  their  heads,  and 
made  obeisance. — And  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  saw  his 
brother  Benjamin,  his  mother^s  son,  and  said,  Is  this  your 
younger  brother,  of  whom  ye  spake  unto  me  !  And  he 
said,  God  be  gracious  unto  thee,  my  son. — And  Joseph 
made  haste  ;  for  his  bowels  did  yearn  upon  his  brother  : 

*  F.rtn  in  Sodom^  is  the  paraphrase  of  this  emphasis,  and  so 
in  the  two  preceding  examples. 


188  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.   10. 

and  he  sought  where  to  weep ;  and  he  entered  into  his 
chamber,  and  wept  there. 

2.  Methinks  1  see  a  fair  and  lovely  child, 
Sitting  compos'd  upon  his  mother's  knee, 
And  reading  with  a  low  and  lisping  voice 

Some  passage  from  the  Sabbath  ;*  while  the  tears 
5  Stand  in  his  little  eyes  so  softly  blue, 

Till,  quite  o'ercome  with  pity,  his  white  arms 
He  twines  around  her  neck,  and  hides  his  sighs 
Most  infantine,  within  her  gladden'd  breast. 
Like  a  sweet  lamb,  half  sportive,  half  afraid, 

10  Nestling  one  moment  'neath  its  bleating  dam. 
And  now  the  happy  mother  kisses  oft 
The  tender-hearted  child,  lays  down  the  book, 
And  asks  him  if  he  doth  remember  still 
A  stranger  who  once  gave  him,  long  ago, 

15  A  parting  kiss,  and  blest  his  laughing  eyes  ! 

His  sobs  speak  fond  remembrance,  and  he  weeps 
To  think  so  kind  and  good  a  man  should  die. 

3.  Ye  who  have  anxiously  and  fondly  watched 
Beside  a  fading  friend,  unconscious  still 

The  cheek's  bright  crimson,  lovely  to  the  view. 
Like  nightshade  with  unwholesome  beauty  bloomed, 
5   And  that  the  sufferer's  bright  dilated  eye. 
Like  mouldering  wood,  owes  to  decay  alone 
Its  wondrous  lustre  : — ye  who  still  have  hoped. 
Even  in  death's  dread  presence,  but  at  length 
Have  heard  the  summons,  (O  heart-freezing  call !) 
10  To  pay  the  last  sad  duties,  and  to  hear 
Upon  the  silent  dwelling's  narrow  lid 

*  Sabbath, — a  poem. 


Ex.1],  12.]       EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  189 

The  first  earth  thrown,  (sound  deadliest  to  the  soul  !— 
For,  strange  delusion  !  then,  and  then  alone, 
Hope  seems  for  ever  fled,  and  the  dread  pang 
15  Of  final  separation  to  begin) — 

Ye  who  have  felt  all  this — O  pay  my  verse 
The  mournful  meed  of  sympathy,  and  own, 
Own  with  a  sigh,  the  sombre  picture's  just. 

11.]  Page  55.    This  requires  no  additional  illustration; 
for  unless  emphasis  forbids  it,  every  good  reader  has 
so  much  regard  to  harmony,  as  to  me  the  rising  slide 
at  the  pause  before  the  cadence. 

12.]  Page  56.    The  indirect  question  and  its  answer  have 
the  falling  inflection. 

The  interrogative  mark  is  here  inverted^  to  render  it  significant 
©fits  office,  in  distinction  from  the  direct  question,  which  turns  the 
Toice  upward.  The  reason  of  this  is  so  obvious,  that  I  trust  it  will 
not  be  regarded,  in  a  work  like  this,  as  an  affectation  of  singularity 
in  trifles. 

1.  The  governor  answered  and  said  unto  them, 
Whether  of  the  twain  will  ye  that  1  release  unto  you  j 
They  said,  Barabbas.  Pilate  saith  unto  them,  What 
shall  I  do  then  with  Jesus,  which  is  called  Christ  }  They 
all  say  unto  him,  Let  him  be  crucified.  And  the  gover- 
nor said.  Why  ;  what  evil  hath  he  done  }  But  they  cri- 
ed out  the  more,  saying.  Let  him  be  crucified. 

2.  Where  now  is  the  splendid  robe  of  the  consulate  j 
Where  are  the  brilliant  torches  j  Where  are  the  ap- 
plauses and  dances,  the  feasts  and  entertainments^* 
Where  are  the  coronets  and  canopies  ^  Where  the  huz- 
zas of  the  city,  the  compliments  of  the  circus,  and   the 


190  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.  12. 

flattering  acclamalions  of  the  spectators  ^    All  these  have 
perished. 

3.  I  hold  it  to  be  an  unquestionable  position,  that  they 
who  duly  appreciate  the  blessings  of  liberty,  revolt  as  much 
from  the  idea  of  exercising,  as  from  that  of  enduring,  op- 
pression. How  far  this  was  the  case  with  the  Romans, 
you  may  inquire  of  those  nations  that  surrounded  them. 
Ask  them,  '  What  insolent  guard  paraded  before  their 
gates,  and  invested  their  strong  holds  j'  They  will  an- 
swer, ^A  Roman  legionary.'  Demand  of  them,  '  What 
greedy  extortioner  fattened  by  their  poverty,  and  clothed 
himself  by  their  nakedness  ^j'  They  will  inform  you,  'A 
Roman  Quaestor.'  Inquire  of  them,  '  What  imperious 
stranger  issued  to  them  his  mandates  of  imprisonment  or 
confiscation,  of  banishment  or  death  j'  They  will  reply 
to  you,  '  A  Roman  Consul.'  Question  them,  '  What 
haughty  conqueror  led  through  his  city,  their  nobles  and 
kings  in  chains;  and  exhibited  their  countrymen,  by 
thousands,  in  gladiators'  shows  for  the  amusement  of  his  fel- 
low citizens  j'  They  will  tell  you,  '  A  Roman  General. 
Require  of  them,  '  What  tyrants  imposed  the  heaviest 
yoke  J— enforced  the  most  rigorous  exactions  j — inflicted 
the  most  savage  punishments,  and  showed  the  greatest 
gust  for  blood  and  torture  ?'  They  will  exclaim  to  you, 
The  Roman  people.' 

4.  Let  us  now  consider  the  principal  point,  whether 
the  place  where  they  encountered  was  most  favourable  to 
Milo,  or  to  Clodius.  Were  the  affair  to  be  represented 
only  by  painting,  instead  of  being  expressed  by  words,  it 
would  even  then  clearly  appear  which  was  the  traitor, 
and  which  was  free  from  all  mischievous  designs ;  when 


Ex.12.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  19 1 


the  one  was  sitting  in  his  chariot  muffled  up  in  his  cloak, 
and  his  wife  along  with  him.  Which  of  these  circum- 
stances was  not  a  very  great  incumbrance  ^  the  dress,  the 
chariot,  or  the  companion  j  How  could  he  be  worse 
equipped  for  an  engagement,  when  he  was  wrapt  up  in  a 
cloak,  embarrassed  with  a  chariot,  and  almost  fettered  by 
his  wtfe  J  Observe  the  other  now,  in  the  first  place,  sal- 
lying out  on  a  sudden  from  his  seat ;  for  what  reason  ^ 
— in  the  evening ;  what  urged  him  ^j — late  ;  to  what  pur- 
pose, especially  at  that  season  j — He  calls  at  Pompey's 
seat ;  with  what  view  j  To  see  Pompey  ?  He  knew  he 
w^as  at  'Alsium. — To  see  his  house  ?  He  had  been  in  it 
a  thousand  times — What  then  could  be  the  reason  of  this 
loitering  and  shifting  about  j  He  wanted  to  be  upon  the 
spot  when  Milo  came  up. 

5.  Wherefore  cease  we  then  j 
Say  they  who  counsel  war,  we  are  decreed, 
Reserved,  and  destin'd,  to  eternal  woe ; 
Whatever  doing,  what  can  we  suffer  more, 
5  What  can  we  suffer  worse  j     Is  this  then  worst, 
Thus  sitting,  thus  consulting,  thus  in  arms  ? 
What !  when  we  fled  amain,  pursued  and  struck 
With  heav'n's  afflicting  thunder,  and  besought 
The  deep  to  shelter  us, — this  Hell  then  seem'd 

10  A  refuge  from  those  wounds  :  or  when  we  lay 
Chain'd  on  the  burning  lake, — that  sure  was  worse. 
What,  if  the  breath,  that  kindled  those  grim  fires, 
Awak'd,  should  blow  them  into  sev'nfold  rage. 
And  plunge  us  in  the  flames  ^  or  from  above 

15  Should  intermitted  vengeance  arm  again 


192  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.   12, 

His  red  right-hand  to  plague  us  j  what  if  all 
Her  stores  were  open'd,  and  this  firmament 
Of  Hell  should  spout  her  cataracts  of  fire, 
Impendent  horrors,  threat'ning  hideous  fall 

20  One  day  upon  our  heads ;  while  we  perhaps, 
Designing  or  exhorting  glorious  war, 
Caught  in  a  fiery  tempest,  shall  be  hurl'd, 
Each  on  his  rock  transfix'd,  the  sport  and  prey 
Of  wracking  whirlwinds  ;  or  for  ever  sunk 

25  Under  yon  boiling  ocean,  wrapt  in  chains  ; 
There  to  converse  with  everlasting  groans, 
Unrespited,  unpitied,  unrepriev'd. 
Ages  of  hopeless  end !     This  would  be  worse. 

6.  But,  first,  whom  shall  we  send 
In  search  of  the  new  world  j  whom  shall  we  find 
SufFTcient  j  who  shall  tempt  with  wand'ring  feet 
The  dark  unbottom'd  infinite  abyss, 
5  And  through  the  palpable  obscure  find  out 
His  uncouth  way,  or  spread  his  airy  flight, 
Upborne  with  indefatigable  wings, 
Over  the  vast  abrupt,  ere  he  arrive 
The  happy  isle  j  what  strength,  what  art,  can  then 

10  Suffice,  or  what  evasion  bear  him  safe 

Through  the  strict  senteries  and  stations  thick 
Of  ^Angels  watching  round  j  Here  he  had  need 
All  circumspection,  and  we  now  no  less 
Choice  in  our  suffrage  ;  for  on  whom  we  send 

15  The  weight  of  all,  and  our  last  hope,  relies. 


Ex.    13.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  193 

13.]  Page  57.  Language  of  authority  and  of  surprise 
commonly  requires  the  falling  inflection,  Denuncia-- 
Hon,  reprehension  ^c.  come  under  this  head. 

1.  Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard  ;  consider  her  ways, 
and  be  wise  : — which  having  no  guide,  overseer,  or  rul- 
er, provideth  her  meat  in  the  summer,  and  gathereth 
her  food  in  the  harvest.  How  long  wilt  thou  sleep,  O 
sluggard  ?  when  wilt  thou  arise  out  of  thy  sleep  ? — 
Yet  a  little  sleep,  a  little  slumber,  a  litde  folding  of  the 
hands  to  sleep : — So  shall  thy  poverty  come  as  one  that 
travelleth,  and  thy  want  as  an  armed  man. 

2.  And  when  the  king  came  in  to  see  the  guests,  he 
saw  there  a  man  that  had  not  on  a  wedding-garment : — 
And  he  saith  unto  him,  friend,  how  earnest  thou  in  hither, 
not  having  a  wedding-garment  ?  And  he  was  speechless. 
— Then  said  the  king  to  the  servants,  bind  him,  hand  and 
foot,  and  take  him  away,  and  cast  him  into  outer  dark- 
ness :  there  shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 

3.  Then  he  which  had  received  the  one  talent  came, 
and  said.  Lord,  I  knew  thee  that  thou  art  a  hard  man, 
reaping  where  thou  hast  not  sown,  and  gathering  where 
thou  hast  not  strewed  : — And  I  was  afraid,  and  went 
and  hid  thy  talent  in  the  earth  :  lo  there  thou  hast  that  is 
thine. — His  lord  answered  and  said  unto  him,  thou  wick- 
ed and  slothful  servant, — thou  knewest  that  I  reap  where 
1  sowed  not,*  and  gather  where  I  have  not  strewed  : — 
Thou  oughtest  therefore  to  have  put  my  money  to  the 

*  This  clanse  uttered  with   a  high  note  and  the  falling  slide, 
expresses  censure  better  with   the  common  punctuation,  than  if  it 
were  marked  with  the  interrogation. 
17 


194  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex..  13. 

exchangers,  and  then  at  my  coming  I  should  have  re- 
ceived mine  own  with  usury. — Take  therefore  the  talent 
from  him,  and  give  it  unto  him  which  hath  ten  talents. — 
And  cast  ye  the  unpro6table  servant  into  outer  darkness  : 
there  shall  be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth. 

4.  Then  began  he  to  upbraid  the  cities  wherein  most 
of  his  mighty  works  were  done,  because  they  repented 
not. — Wo  unto  thee,  Chorazin  !  wo  unto  thee,  Beth- 
saida  !  for  if  the  mighty  works  which  were  done  in  you 
had  been  done  in  TyVe  and  Sidon,*  they  would  have  re- 
pented long  ago  in  sackcloth  and  ashes. — But  I  say  unto 
you,  It  shall  be  more  tolerable  for  Tyre  and  Sidon  at  the 
day  of  judgment  than  for  you. — And  thou,  Capernaum, 
which  art  exalted  unto  heaven,  shall  be  brought  down  to 
hell :  for  if  the  mighty  works  which  have  been  done  in 
thee,  had  been  done  in  Sodom,  it  would  have  remained 
until  this  day. — But  I  say  unto  you.  That  it  shall  be  more 
tolerable  for  the  land  of  Sodom,  in  the  day  of  judgment, 
than  for  thee. 

5.  Such,  Sir,  was  once  the  disposition  of  a  people, 
who  now  surround  your  throne  with  reproaches  and  com- 
plaints. Do  justice  to  yourself.  Banish  from  your  mind 
those  unworthy  opinions,  with  which  some  interested  per- 
sons have  labored  to  possess  you.  Distrust  the  men 
who  tell  you  that  the  English  are  naturally  light  and  in- 
constant ;  that  they  complain  without  a  cause.  With- 
draw your  confidence  equally  from  all  parties  ;  from  min- 
isters, favourites,  and  relations ;  and  let  there  be  one  mo- 
ment in  your  life,  in  which  you  have  consulted  your  own 
understanding. 

*  £«eain  Tyre  and  Sidon,  is  the  paraphrase  of  the  emphasis. 


I 


Ex.  13.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  195 

6.  You  have  done  that,  you  should  be  sorry  for. 
There  is  no  terror,  Casslus,  in  your  threats  ; 

For  I  am  arm'd  so  strong  in  honesty. 

That  they  pass  by  me,  as  the  idle  wind, 
5  Which  I  respect  not.     I  did  send  to  you 

For  certain  sums  of  gold,  which  you  denied  me  ; — 

For  I  can  raise  no  money  by  vile  means  ; 

1  had  rather  coin  my  heart. 

And  drop  my  blood  for  drachmas,  than  to  wring 
10  From  the  hard  hands  of  peasants  their  vile  trash. 

By  any  indirection.     1  did  send 

To  you  for  gold  to  pay  my  legions. 

Which  you  denied  me  :  Was  that  done  like  Cassius  ? 

Should  /  have  answer'd  Caius  Cassius  so  ? 
15  When  Marcus  Brutus  grows  so  covetous. 

To  lock  such  rascal  counters  from  his  friends, 

Be  ready,  gods,  with  all  your  thunderbolts, 

Dash  him  to  pieces  ! 

7.  The  war,  that  for  a  space  did  fail. 
Now  trebly  thundering  swell'd  the  gale. 

And — Stanley  !  was  the  cry  ; — 
A  light  on  Marmlon's  visage  spread. 

And  fired  his  glazing  eye  : 
W^ith  dying  hand,  above  his  head, 
He  shook  the  fragment  of  his  blade, 

And  shouted  "  Victory  ! 
Charge,  Chester,  charge  !     on,  Stanley,  on  !" 
Were  the  last  words  of  Alarmion  ! 

8.  So  judge  thou  still,  presumptuous,  till  the  wrath, 


196  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  Ex.  13. 

Which  thou  incurr'st  by  flying,  meet  thy  flight, 
Sev'nfold,  and  scourge  that  wisdom  back  to  Hell, 
Which  taught  thee  yet  no  better,  that  no  pain 
5  Can  equal  anger  infinite  provok'd. 

But  wherefore  thou  alone  ?     wherefore  with  thee 
Came  not  all  Hell  broke  loose  ?     is  pain  to  them 
Less  pain,  less  to  be  fled  ?     or  thou  than  they 
Less  hardy  to  endure  ?     Courageous  Chief! 
10  The  first  in  flight  from  pain  ! — hadst  thou  alleged 
To  thy  deserted  host  this  cause  of  flight, 
Thou  surely  hadst  not  come  sole  fugitive. 

9.  To  whom  the  warrior  Angel  soon  reply'd. 

To  say,  and  straight  unsay,  pretending  first 

Wise  to  fly  pain,  professing  next  the  spy, 

Argues  no  leader,  but  a  liar,  trac'd, 
5  Satan  ! — and  could st  thou  faithful  add  ?     O  name, 

O  sacred  name  of  faithfulness  profan'd  ! 

Faithful  to  whom  ?    to  thy  rebellious  crew  ? 

Army  of  Fiends  ! — fit  body  to  fit  head  ! 

Was  this  your  discipline  and  faith  engag'd, 
10  Your  military  obedience,  to  dissolve 

Allegiance  to  th'  acknowledg'd  Pow'r  supreme  ? 

And  thou,  sly  hypocrite,  who  now  wouldst  seem 

Patron  of  liberty,  who  more  than  thou 

OnceTawn'd,  and  cring'd,  and  servilely  ador'd 
15  Heav'n's  awful  Monarch  ?     wherefore,  but  in  hope 

To  dispossess  him,  and  thyself  to  reign  ; 

But  mark  what  I  arreed  thee  now  ; — Avaunt : 

Fly  thither  whence  thou  fled'st :  if  from  this  hour. 

Within  these  hallow'd  limits  thou  appear, 
20  Back  to  th'  infernal  pit  I  drag  thee  Min'd^ 


Ex.  13,]  EXERCISES  OK  INFLECTION.  197 

And  seal  thee  so,  as  henceforth  not  to  scorn 
The  facile  gates  of  Hell  too  slightly  barr'd. 

Apostrophe  and  exclamation,  as  well  as  the  imperative  mode, 
when  accompanied  by  emphasis,  incline  the  voice  to  the  falling 
inflection. 

10.  Oh  !  deep-enchanting  prelude  to  repose, 
The  dawn  of  bliss,  the  twilight  of  our  woes  ! 
Yet  half  I  hear  the  panting  spirit  sigh, 
It  is  a  dread  and  awful  thing  to  die  ! 
5  Mysterious  worlds  !  untravell'd  by  the  sun, 
Where  Time's  far  wandering  tide  has  never  run, 
From  your  unfathom'd  shades,  and  viewless  spheres, 
A  warning  comes,  unheard  by  other  ears — 
'Tis  heaven's  commanding  trijmpet,  long  and  loud, 

10  Like  Sinai's  thunder,  pealing  from  the  cloud  ! 
Daughter  of  Faith,  awake  !  arise  !  illume 
The  dread  unknown,  the  chaos  of  the  tomb  ! 
Melt,  and  dispel,  ye  spectre  doubts,  that  roll 
Cimmerian  darkness  on  the  parting  soul ! 

15  Fly,  like  the  moon-eyed  herald  of  dismay, 
Chased  on  his  night-steed,  by  the  star  of  day  ! 
The  strife  is  o'er  ! — the  pangs  of  nature  close, 
And  life's  last  rapture  triumphs  o'er  her  woes  ! 
Hark !  as  the  spirit  eyes,  with  eagle  gaze, 

20  The  noon  of  heaven,  undazzled  by  the  blaze, 
On  heavenly  winds  that  waft  her  to  the  sky, 
Float  the  sweet  tones  of  star-born  melody ; 
Wild  as  the  hallow'd  anthem  sent  to  hail 
Bethlehem's  shepherds  in  the  lonely  vale, 

25  When  Jordan  hush'd  his  waves,  and  midnight  still 
Watch'd  on  the  holy  towers  of  Zion  hill ! 
:  17* 


198  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.  13. 

1 1 . Piety  has  found 

Friends  in  the  friends  of  science,  and  true  prayer 
Has  flow'd  from  lips  wet  with  Castalian  dews. 
Such  was  thy  wisdom,  JVewton,  child-like  sage  ! 
5  Sagacious  reader  of  the  Works  of  God, 
And  in  his  Word  sagacious.     Such  too  thine, 
Milton,  whose  genius  had  angelic  wings. 
And  fed  on  manna.     And  such  thine,  in  whom 
Our  British  Themis  gloried  with  just  cause, 
10  Immortal  Hale!  for  deep  discernment  prais'd, 
And  sound  integrity,  not  more,  than  fam'd 
For  sanctity  of  manners  undefil'd. 

12.  These  are  thy  glorious  works,  Parent  of  good, 
Almighty,  thine  this  universal  frame, 
Thus  wondrous  fair ;  thyself  how  wondrous  then  ! 
Unspeakable,  who  sitt'st  above  these  heav'ns 
5  To  us  invisible,  or  dimly  seen 

In  these  thy  lowest  works ;  yet  these  declare 
Thy  goodness  beyond  thought,  and  pow'r  divine. 
Speak,  ye  who  best  can  tell,  ye  sons  of  light, 
Angels ;  for  ye  behold  him,  and  with  songs 

10  And  choral  symphonies,  day  without  night. 
Circle  his  throne  rejoicing  ;  ye  in  Heaven, 
On  earth,  join  all  ye  creatures  to  extol 
Him  first,  him  last,  him  midst,  and  without  end. 
Fairest  of  stars,  last  in  the  train  of  night, 

15  If  better  thou  belong  not  to  the  dawn. 

Sure  pledge  of  day,  that  crown'st  the  smiling  morn 
With  thy  bright  circlet,  praise  him  in  thy  sphere, 
While  day  arises,  that  sweet  hour  of  prime. 


Ex.   14.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  199 

Thou  Sun,  of  this  great  world  both  eye  and  soul, 

20  Acknowledge  him  thy  greater,  sound  his  praise 
In  thy  eternal  course,  both  when  thou  climb'st, 
And  when  high  noon  hast  gain'd,  and  when  thou  fall'st. 
Moon,  that  now  meet'st  the  orient  Sun,  now  fly'st, 
With  the  fix'd  stars,  fix'd  in  their  orb  that  flies, 

25  And  ye  five  other  wand'ring  Fires,  that  move 
In  mystic  dance,  not  vi^ithout  song,  resound 
His  praise,  who  out  of  darkness  call'd  up  light. 
^Air,  and  ye  'Elements,  the  eldest  birth 
Of  nature's  womb,  that  in  quaternion  run 

30  Perpetual  circle,  multiform,  and  mix. 

And  nourish  all  things,  let  your  ceaseless  change 
Vary  to  our  great  Maker  still  new  praise. 
His  praise,  ye  Winds,  that  from  four  quarters  blow, 
Breathe  soft  or  loud ;  and  wave  your  tops,  ye  Pines, 

35  With  every  plant,  in  sign  of  worship,  wave. 
Fountains,  and  ye  that  warble  as  ye  flow, 
Melodious  murmurs,  warbling  tune  his  praise. 
Join  voices  all,  ye  living  Souls  ;  ye  Birds, 
That  singing  up  to  Heav'n  gate  ascend, 

40  Bear  on  your  wings,  and  in  your  notes  his  praise. 

14.]  Page  60.     Emphatic  succession  of  particulars  rt- 
quires  the  falling  slide* 

Note  3.  page  61.  should  be  examined  before   reading  this  class 
of  Exercises. 

He  answered  and  said  unto  them.  He  that  soweth  the 
good  seed  is  the  Son  of  man  ; — the  field  is  the  world  ; 
the  good  seed  are  the  children  of  the  kingdom :  but  the 
tares  are  the  children  of  the  wicked  one ; — the  enemy 


200  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.    14. 

that  sowed  them  is  the  devil ;  the  harvest  is  the  end  of 
the  world  ;  and  the  reapers  are  the  angels. 

2.  For  to  one  is  given  by  the  Spirit  the  word  of  wis- 
dom ;  to  another,  the  word  of  knowledge,  by  the  same 
Spirit ; — to  another,  faith,  by  the  same  Spirit  ;  to  anoth- 
er, the  gifts  of  healing,  by  the  same  Spirit ; — to  another, 
the  working  of  miracles ;  to  another,  prophecy  ;  to  an- 
other, discerning  of  spirits ;  to  another,  divers  kinds  of 
tongues  ;  to  another,  the  interpretation  of  tongues. 

3.  Rejoice  evermore,  pray  without  ceasing  : — in  eve- 
ry thing  give  thanks  :  for  this  is  the  will  of  God  in  Christ 
Jesus  concerning  you. — Quench  not  the  Spirit : — Despise 
not  prophesyings. — Prove  all  things  y  hold  fast  that  which 
is  good. 

4.  As  virtue  is  the  most  reasonable  and  genuine 
source  of  honour,  we  generally  find  in  titles,  an  intima- 
tion of  some  particular  merit,  that  should  recommend  men 
to  the  high  stations  which  they  possess.  Holiness  is  as- 
cribed to  the  Pope  ;  majesty,  to  kings ;  serenity,  or  mild- 
ness of  temper,  to  princes ;  excellence,  or  perfection,  to 
ambassadors  ;  grace,  to  archbishops ;  honour,  to  peers  ; 
worship,  or  venerable  behaviour,  to  magistrates  ;  and 
reverence,  which  is  of  the  same  import  as  the  former,  to 
the  inferior  clergy. 

5.  It  pleases  me  to  think  that  I,  who  know  so  small  a 
portion  of  the  works  of  the  Creator,  and  with  slow  and 
painful  steps,  creep  up  and  down  on  the  surface  of  this 
globe,  shall,  ere  long,  shoot  away  with  the  swiftness  of 
imagination  ;  trace  out  the  hidden  springs  of  nature's  op- 
erations ;  be  able  to  keep  pace  with  the  heavenly  bodies 
in  the  rapidity  of  their  career  ;  be  a  spectator  of  the  long 


Ex.  14.]  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  201 

chain  of  events  in  the  natural  and  moral  worlds  ;  visit  the 
several  apartments  of  creation  ;  know  how  they  are  fur- 
nished and  how  inhabited ;  comprehend  the  order  and 
measure,  the  magnitude  and  distances  of  those  orbs, 
which,  to  us,  seem  disposed  without  any  regular  design, 
and  set  all  in  the  same  circle  ;  observe  the  dependence 
of  the  parts  of  each  system  ;  and  (if  our  minds  are  big 
enough)  grasp  the  theory  of  the  several  systems  upon 
one  another,  from  whence  results  the  harmony  of  the 
universe. 

6.  He  who  cannot  persuade  himself  to  withdraw  from 
society,  must  be  content  to  pay  a  tribute  of  his  time  to  a 
muhitude  of  tyrants  ;  to  the  loiterer,  who  makes  appoint- 
ments he  never  keeps — to  the  consulter,  who  asks  advice 
he  never  takes — to  the  boaster,  who  blusters  only  to  be 
praised — to  the  complain er,  who  whines  only  to  be  pitied 
— to  the  projector,  whose  happiness  is  only  to  entertain 
his  friends  with  expectations,  which  all  but  himself  know 
to  be  vain — to  the  economist,  who  tells  of  bargains  and 
settlements — to  the  politician,  who  predicts  the  fate  of 
battles  and  breach  of  alliances — to  the  usurer,  who  com- 
pares the  different  funds — and  to  the  talker,  who  talks 
only  because  he  loves  talking. 

7.  That  a  man,  to  whom  he  was,  in  great  measure,  be- 
holden for  his  crown,  and  even  for  his  life ;  a  man  to 
whom,  by  every  honour  and  favour,  he  had  endeavour- 
ed to  express  his  gratitude  ;  whose  brother,  the  earl  of 
Derby,  was  his  own  father-in-law  ;  to  whom  he  had  even 
committed  the  trust  of  his  person,  by  creating  him  lord 
chamberlain ;  that  a  man  enjoying  his  full  confidence 
and  affection  ;  not  actuated  by  any  motive  of  discontent 


202  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.  14. 

or  apprehension  ;  that  this  man  should  engage  in  a  con- 
spiracy against  hfm,  he  deemed  absolutely  false  and  in- 
credible. 

8.  I  would  fain  ask  one  of  those  bigoted  infidels,  sup- 
posing all  the  great  points  of  atheism,  as  the  casual  or  etei- 
Dal  formation  of  the  world,  the  materiality  of  a  thinking 
substance,  the  mortality  of  the  soul,  the  fortuitous  organi- 
zation of  the  body,  the  motion  and  gravitation  of  matter, 
with  the  hke  particulars,  were  laid  together,  and  formed 
into  a  kind  of  creed,  according  to  the  opinions  of  the  most 
celebrated  atheists ;  I  say  supposing  such  a  creed  as  this 
were  formed,  and  imposed  upon  any  one  people  in  the 
world,  whether  it  would  not  require  an  infinitely  greater 
measure  of  faith,  than  any  set  of  articles  which  they  so 
violently  oppose. 

9.  I  conjure  you  by  that  which  you  profess, 
(Howe'er  you  come  to  know  it,)  answer  me  ; 
Though  you  untie  the  winds,  and  let  them  fight 
Against  the  churches  ;  though  the  yesty  waves 
Confound  and  swallow  navigation  up  ; 
Though  bladed  corn  be  lodg'd,  and  trees  blown  down  ; 
Though  castles  topple  on  their  warder's  heads ; 
Though  palaces  and  pyramids  do  slope 
Their  heads  to  their  foundations;  though  the  treasure 
Of  nature's  germins  tumble  altogether, 
Ev'n  till  destruction  sicken,  answer  me 
To  what  I  ask  you. 

This  last  example  is  the  one  which  was  promised  at  page  40, 
of  the  Analysis,  to  be  inserted  in  the  Exercises,  as  exhibiting:  by 
the  notation  something  of  Garrick's  manner  in  pronouncing  the  pas- 
sage. To  make  this  more  intelligible  1  add  here  Walker^s  remarks 
accompanying  this  example,  which  were  alluded  to  at  page   40. 


Ex.  15.]     EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  203 

^'  By  placing  the  falliog  inflection,  without  dropping  the  voice^ 
on  each  particular,  and  giving  this  inflection  a  degree  of  emphasis, 
inert  asiiig  from  the  first  member  to  the  sixth,  we  shall  find  the 
whole  climax  wonderfully  enforced  and  diversified  :  this  was  the 
method  approved  and  practised  by  the  inimitable  Mr.  Garrick  ;  and 
though  it  is  possible  that  a  very  good  actor  may  vary  in  some  par- 
ticulars from  the  rule,  and  yet  pronounce  the  whole  agreeably,  it 
may  with  confidence  be  asserted  that  no  actor  can  pronounce  this 
passage  to  so  much  advantage  as  by  adopting  the  inflections  laid 
down  in  this  rule." 


1 5.]  Page  62.  Emphatic  repetition  requires  the  falling 
inflection;  though  the  principle  of  the  suspending 
slide,  or  of  the  interrogative,  may  form  an  exception. 

1.  And  Abraham  stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  took 
the  knife  to  slay  his  son. — And  the  angel  of  the  Lord 
called  unto  him  out  of  heaven,  and  said, 'Abraham, 'Abra- 
ham.    And  he  said,  Here  am  I. 

2.  And  the  king  was  much  moved,  and  went  up  to 
the  chamber  over  the  gate,  and  wept :  and  as  he  went, 
thus  he  said,  O  my  son  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son  Ab- 
salom !  would  God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absalom,  my 
son,  my  son  ! 

3.  O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  thou  that  killest  the  proph- 
ets, and  slonest  them  which  are  sent  unto  thee,  how  of- 
ten would  I  have  gathered  thy  children  together,  even  as 
a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her  wings,  and  ye 
would  not ! 

4.  But  the  subject  is  too  awful  for  irony.  I  will 
speak  plainly  and  directly.  JVewton  was  a  Christian  ! 
JV^wton,  whose  mind  burst  forth  from  the  fetters  cast  by 
nature  upon  our  finite  conceptions — A^dwton,  whose  sci- 
ence was  truth,  and  the  foundation  of  whose  knowledge 
of  it  was  philosophy  :  not  those  visionary  and  arrogant 


204  EXERCISES  ON  INFLECTION.  [Ex.   1 5. 

presumptions,  which  too  often  usurp  its  name,  but  philos- 
ophy resting  upon  the  basis  of  mathematics,  which,  like 
figures,  cannot  lie — JVewton,  who  carried  the  line  and 
rule  to  the  utmost  barriers  of  creation,  and  explored  the 
principles  by  which,  no  doubt,  all  created  matter  is  held 
together  and  exists. 

5.  To  die,  they  say,  is  noble — as  a  soldier — 
But  with  such  guides,  to  point  th'  unerring  road, 
Such  able  guides,  such  arms  and  discipline 
As  I  have  had,  my  soul  would  sorely  feel 
5  The  dreadful  pang  which  keen  reflections  give. 
Should  she  in  death's  dark  porch,  while  life  was  ebbing, 
Receive  the  judgment,  and  this  vile  reproach  : — 
"  Long  hast  thou  wander'd  in  a  stranger's  land, 
A  stranger  to  thyself  and  to  thy  God  ; 

10  The  heavenly  hills  were  oft  within  thy  view, 
And  oft  the  shepherd  cali'd  thee  to  his  flock, 
And  cali'd  in  vain. — A  thousand  monitors 
Bade  thee  retilrn,  and  walk  in  wisdom's  ways. 
The  seasons,  as  they  roli'd,  bade  thee  return ; 

15  The  glorious  sun,  in  his  diurnal  round. 

Beheld  thy  wandering,  and  bade  thee  return  ; 
The  night,  an  emblem  of  the  night  of  death. 
Bade  thee  return  ;  the  rising  mounds. 
Which  told  the  traveller  where  the  dead  repose 

20  In  tenements  of  clay,  bade  thee  return  ; 
And  at  thy  father's  grave,  the  filial  tear. 
Which  dear  remembrance  gave,  bade  thee  return, 
And  dwell  in  Virtue's  tents,  on  Zion's  hill ! 
— Here  thy  career  be  stay'd,  rebellious  man  ! 


Ex.  19-22.]  EXERCISES^  ON  EMPHASIS.  ^05 

25  Long  hast  thou  liv'd  a  cumbered  of  the  ground. 
Millions  are  shipvvreck'd  on  life's  stormy  coast, 
With  all  their  charts  on  board,  and  powerful  aid, 
Because  their  lofty  pride  disdain'd  to  learn 
Th'  instructions  of  a  pilot,  and  a  God." 

16,  17,  18.]  Page  63  to  66.  On  Cadence^  Circumjkxy 
and  Accent^  no  additional  illustrations  seem  to  be  re- 
quired  in  the  Exercises, 

19,  20,  21,22.]  Page  71  to  80.  It  was  necessary  in  the 
Analysis  to  examine  and  exemplify  at  some  lengthy  the 
difference  between  emphatic  stress,  and  emphatic  inflec- 
tion, and  also  between  absolute  and  relative  stress. 
The  examples,  however,  illustrating  these  distinctions, 
must  generally  be  taken  from  single  sentences  and  clau- 
ses. But  as  I  wish  here  to  introduce  such  passages 
as  have  considerable  length,  I  have  concluded  to  ar- 
range them  all  under  the  general  head  o/*  Emphasis, 
leaving  the  reader  to  class  particular  instances  of  stress 
and  inflection,  according  to  the  principles  laid  down  in 
the  Analysis, 

1 .  He  that  planted  the  ear,  shall  he  not  hear  ?  be 
that  formed  the  eye,  shall  he  not  see  ? — he  that  chastis- 
6th  the  heathen,  shall  not  he  correct  ?  he  that  teacheth 
man  knowledge,  shall  not  he  know  ? 

2.  The  queen  of  the  south  shall  rise  up  in  the  judg- 
ment with  the  men  of  this  generation,  and  condemn  them  : 
for  she  came  from  the  utmost  parts  of  the  earth,  to  hear 
the  wisdom  of  Solomon  ;  and  behold,  a  greater  than  Sol- 
omon is  here. — the  men  of  Nineveh  shall  rise  up  in  the 

18 


206  EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  [Ex.  19-22. 

judgment  with  this  generation,  and  shall  condemn  it :  for 
they  repented  at  the  preaching  of  Jdnas ;  and  behold,  a 
greater  than  Jonas  is  here. 

3.  But  when  the  Pharisees  heard  it,  tliey  said.  This 
fellow  doth  not  cast  out  devils,  but  by  Beelzebub  ihe prince 
of  the  devils.  2  And  Jesus  knew  their  thoughts,  and  said 
unto  them.  Every  kingdom  divided  against  itself^  is  brought 
to  desolation  ;  and  every  city  or  house  divided  against  it- 
self shall  not;5tand.  3  And  if  Shtan  cast  out  Satan,  he  is 
divided  against  himself;  how  shall  then  his  kingdom  stand? 
And  if  I  by  Beelzebub  cast  out  devils,  by  whom  do  your 
children  cast  them  out  ?  therefore  they  shall  be  your 
judges.  But  if  I  cast  out  devils  by  the  Spirit  of  Gbdy 
then  the  kingdom  of  God  is  come  unto  you.  4  Or  else, 
how  can  one  enter  into  a  strong  man's  house,  and  spoil 
his  goods,  except  he  first  bind  the  strong  man  f  and  then 
he  will  spoil  his  house. 

4.  And  behold,  a  certain  lawyer  stood  up,  and  tempt- 
ed him,  saying.  Master,  what  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal 
life  ?  2  He  said  unto  him.  What  is  written  in  the  law  i 
how  readest  thou  ?  3  And  he  answering  said.  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  and  with  all  thy  mfnd ; 
and  thy  neighbour  as  thyself.  4  And  he  said  unto  him, 
Thou  hast  answered  rTght :  this  do,  and  thou  shalt  live. 
— But  he,  willing  to  justify  himself,  said  unto  Jesus,  And 
who  is  my  neighbour  ^  5  And  Jesus  answering,  said,  A 
certain  man  went  down  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho,  and 
fell  among  thieves,  which  stripped  him  of  his  raiment,  and 
wounded  him,  and  departed,  leaving  him  half  dead.  6  And 
by  chance  there  came  down  a  certain  priest  that  way ; 


Ex.   19-22.]       EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  207 

and  when  he  saw  him,  he  passed  by  on  the  other  side. — 
And  likewise  a  L^vite,  when  he  was  at  the  place,  came 
and  looked  on  him,  and  passed  by  on  the  other  side.  7  But 
a  certain  Samaritan,  as  he  journied,  came  where  he  was  : 
and  when  he  saw  him,  he  had  compassion  on  him, — and 
w^nt  to  him,  and  bound  up  his  wounds,  pouring  in  oil  and 
wine,  and  set  him  on  his  own  beast,  and  brought  him  to 
an  inn,  and  took  care  of  him.  8  And  on  the  morrow,  when 
he  departed,  he  took  out  two  pence,  and  gave  them  to 
the  host,  and  said  unto  him,  Take  care  of  him  :  and  what 
soever  thou  spendest  more,  when  I  come  again,  I  will  re- 
pay thee.  9  Which  now  of  these  three,  thinkest  thou,  was 
neighbour  unto  him  that  fell  among  the  thieves  ? — And  he 
said,  He  that  shewed  mircy  on  him.  Then  said  Jesus 
unto  him.  Go,  and  do  thou  likewise. 

5.  As  to  those  public  works,  so  much  the  object  of 
your  ridicule,  they,  undoubtedly,  demand  a  due  share  of 
honour  and  applause  ;  but  I  rate  them  far  beneath  the 
great  merit  of  my  administration.  It  is  not  with  stones 
nor  bricks  that  '/have  fortified  the  city.  It  is  not  from 
works  like  these  that '/  derive  my  reputation.  Would 
you  know  my  methods  of  fortifying?  Examine,  and  you 
will  find  them  in  the  arms,  the  towns,  the  territories,  the 
harbours  I  have  secured ;  the  navies,  the  troops,  the  ar- 
mies I  have  raised. 

6.  For  if  you  now  pronounce,  that,  as  my  public 
conduct  hath  not  been  right,  Ctesiphon  must  stand  con- 
demned, it  must  be  thought  that  yourselves  have  acted 
wrong,  not  that  you  owe  your  present  state  to  the  caprice 
of  fortune.  But  it  cannot  bL  JVd,  my  countrymen  !  It 
cannot  be  you  have  acted  wrong,  in  encountering  danger 


208  EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.       [Ex.   19-^2 

bravely,  for  the  liberty  and  safety  of  all  Greece.  JVd  ! 
by  those  generous  souls  of  ancient  times,  who  were  ex- 
posed at  Mdrathon!  By  those  wlio  stood  arrayed  at 
Platia !  By  those  who  encountered  the  Persian  fleet  at 
Salamis  I  who  fought  at  ArtemUium  !  By  all  tho$e  iU 
lustrious  sons  of  Alliens,  whose  remains  lie  deposited  in 
the  public  monuments  !  ^All  of  whom  received  the  same 
honourable  interment  from  their  country  :  Not  tliose  only 
who  prevailed,  not  those  only  who  were  victorious.  And 
IwUh  reason.  What  was<  the  part  of  gallant  men  they 
hll  performed  5  their  success  was  such  as  tbe  supreme 
director  of  the  world  dispensed  to  each. 

Tp  Like  other  tyrants,  death  delights  to  sniile. 

What,  smitten,  most  proclaims  the  pride  of  powV, 

And  arbitrary  nod.     His  joy  supreme, 

To  bid  the  wretch  survive  xhe  fbrtunate  ; 
6  The  feeble  wrap  the  athUtic  in  his  shroud  ; 

And  weeping /a^Aer^  build  their  children'' s  tomb  : 

Me  thincy  Narcissa  ! — What  though  short  thy  date  ? 

Virtue,  riot  rolling  sans,  the  mind  matures. 

That  life  is  long,  which  answers  life's  great  ^nd. 
10  The  tree  that  bears  no  fruit,  deserves  no  ndme  ; 

The  man  of  ivlsdom  is  the  man  of  years. 

Narcissa's  youth  has  lectur'd  me  thus  far. 

And  can  her  gdiety  give  counsel  too  ? 

That,  like  the  Jews'  fam'd  oracle  of  gems, 
15  Sparkles  instruction  ;  such  as  throws  new  light, 

And  opens  more  the  character  of  death ; 

111  known  to  thee,  Lorenzo  !     This  thy  vaunt  : 

"  Give  death  his  due,  the  wretched,  and  the  did  ; 

"  Let  him  not  violate  kind  nature's  laws, 


Ex.  19-22.]        EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  209 

"  But  own  man  born  to  live  as  well  as  c?ie." 
Wretched  and  old  thou  glv^st  him  ;  young  and  gay 
He  takes  ;  and  plunder  is  a  tyrant's  joy. 
*  Fortune,  w^ith  youth  and  gaiety,  conspir'd 
5  To  weave  a  tripple  wreath  of  happiness, 
(If  happiness  on  earth,)  to  crown  her  brow. 
And  could  death  charge  through  such  a  shining  shield  ? 

That  shining  shield  invites  the  tyrant's  spear. 
As  if  to  damp  our  elevated  aims, 

10  And  strongly  preach  humility  to  man. 
O  how  portentous  is  prosperity  ! 
How,  comet-like,  it  threatens,  while  it  shines  ! 
Few  years  but  yield  us  proof  of  death's  ambition. 
To  cull  his  victims  from  the  fairest  fold, 

15  And  sheath  his  shafts  in  all  the  pride  of  life. 
When  flooded  with  abundance,  purpled  o'er 
With  recent  honours,  bloom 'd  with  ev'ry  bliss, 
Set  up  in  ostentation,  made  the  gaze. 
The  gaudy  centre,  of  the  public  eye, 

20  When  fortune  thus  has  toss'd  her  child  in  air, 

Snatch'd  from  the  covert  of  an  humble  state. 

How  often  have  I  seen  him  drbpp^d  at  once. 

Our  morning's  envy  !  and  our  ev'ning's  sigh  ! 

Death  loves  a  shining  mark,  a  signal  blow ; 

25  A  blow,  which,  while  it  executes,  alarms ; 
And  startles  thousands  with  a  single  fall, 
(o)  As  when  some  stately  growth  of  oak,  or  pine, 
Which  nods  aloft,  and  proudly  spreads  her  shade, 
The  sun's  defiance,  and  the  flock's  defence ; 


*  In  this  place  and  in  many  others,  tl^  connexion  of  the  author  is  broken  in  th« 
selections,  without  notice. 

18* 


210  EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  [Ex-  19-22. 

By  the  strong  strokes  of  lab'ring  hinds  subdu'd, 

Loud  groans  her  last,  and,  rushing  from  her  height, 

In  cumbrous  ruin,  thunders  to  the  ground  : 

The  conscious  forest  trembles  at  the  shock, 

5  And  hill,  and  stream,  and  distant  dale  resound.* 

Young* 

8.  Genius  and  art,  ambition's  boasted  wings, 

Our  boast  but  ill  deserve. 

If  these  alone 


Assist  our  &\^hl^  fame* s  flight  \s  glorifsfhlh 
10  jHear^-merit  wanting,  mount  we  ne'er  so  high, 

Our  height  is  but  the  gibbet  of  our   name. 

A  celebrated  wretch  when  I  behold. 

When  I  behold  a  genius  bright,  and  base. 

Of  tow'ring  talents,  and  terrestrial  aims  ; 
15  Methinks  I  see,  as  thrown  from  her  high  sphere, 

The  glorious  fragments  of  a  soul  immortal, 

With  rubbish  mixt,  and  glittering  in  the  dust. 

Struck  at  the  splendid,  melancholy  sight. 

At  once  compassion  soft,  and  envy,  rise 

20  But  wherefore  envy  ?  Talents  angel-bright. 

If  wanting  worth,  are  shining  instruments 

In  false   ambition's  hand,  to  finish  faults 

Illustrious,  and  give  infamy  renown. 

Great  ill  is  an  achievement  of  great  J3du''r5> 
25  Plain  sense  but  rarely  leads  us  far  astray. 

Means  have  no  merit,  if  our  ^nd  amiss. 

Hehrts  are  proprietors  of  all  applause. 

Right  ends,  and  means,  make  wisdom :  Worldly-wise 

Is  but  hctlf'WMied,  at  its  highest  praise. 

♦  In  all  the  following^  Exercises,  the  sig^n  of  transition  and  oth- 
er marks  of  modulatioaare  occasionally  used. 


Ex.   19-22.]       EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.      ^^   ■*  '  211 

— ^^;Ci»^^   *    *         '     - 

Let  genius  then  despair  to  make  thee^fealT;" 
Nor  flatter  station  :     What  is  station  high  f 
'Tis  a  proud  mendicant ;  it  boasts  and  begs  } 
It  begs  an  alms  of  homage  from  the  throng, 
5  And  oft  the  throng  denies  its  charity. 
Monarchs  and  ministers,  are  awful  names; 
Whoever  wear  them,  challenge  our  devoir. 
Religion,  public  order,  both  exact 
External  homage,  and  a  supple  knee, 
10  To  beings  pompously  set  up,  to  serve 

The  meanest  slave ;  all  more  is  merit's  due, 
Her  sacred  and  inviolable  right, 
Nor  ever  paid  the  monarch,  but  the  metn. 
Our  hearts  ne'er  bow  but  to  superior  wbrth; 
15  Nor  ever  fail  of  their  allegiance  there. 

Fools,  indeed,  drop  the  man  in  their  account, 
And  vote  the  mantle  into  majesty. 
Let  the  small  savage  boast  his  silver  fur ; 
His  royal  robe  unborrow'd  and  unbought, 
20  His  own,  descending  fairly  from  his  sires. 
Shall  man  be  proud  to  wear  his  livery. 
And  souls  in  ermine  scorn  a  soul  without  ? 
Cnn place  or  lessen  us,  or  aggrandize? 
Pygmies  are  pygmies  still,  though  perch'd  on  ^Alps  ; 
25  And  pyramids  are  pyramids  in  vales. 

Each  man  makes  his  own  stature,  builds  himself; 

Virtue  alone  outbuilds  the  pyramids : 

Her  monuments  shall  last  when  Egypfs  fall, 

Thy  bosom  burns  for  pdw^r  ; 

30   What  station  charms  thee  ?  I'll  install  thee  there ; 
'Tis  thine.     And  art  thou  greater  than  before  f 
Then  thou  before  wast  something  less  than  man. 


212  EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.       [Ex.  19-22. 

Has  thy  new  post  betray'd  thee  into  pride  ? 

That  treach'rous  pride  betrays  thy  dignity ; 

That  pride  defames  humanity,  and  calls 

The  being  mean,  which  staffs  or  strings  can  raise. 
5         High  wdrth  is  elevated  place  :  'Tis  more  ; 

It  makes  the  post  stand  candidate  for  thee  ; 

Makes  more  than  monarchs,  makes  an  honest  mctn  ; 

Though  no  exchequer  it  commands,  'tis  wealth  ; 

And  though  it  wears  no  rfbband,  'tis  renown  ; 
10  Renown,  that  would  not  quit  thee,  though  disgrac'd, 

Nor  leave  thee  pendant  on  a  master's  smile. 

Other  ambition  nature  interdicts  ; 

Nature  proclaims  it  most  absurd  in  man, 

By  pointing  at  his  origin,  and  end  ; 
15  Milk,  and  a  swathe,  at  first  his  whole  demand ; 

His  whole  domain,  at  last,  a  turf,  or  stone  ; 

To  whom,  between,  a  wdrld  may  seem  too  small. 

Young, 

9.  Nothing  can  make  it  less  than  mad  in  man 

To  put  forth  all  his  ardour  all  his  art, 
20  And  give  his  soul  her  full  unbounded  flight, 

But  reaching  Him,  who  gave  her  wings  to  fly. 

When  blind  ambition  quite  mistakes  her  road. 

And  downward  pores,  for  that  which  shines  above, 

Substantial  happiness,  and  true  renown  ; 
25  Then,  like  an  ideot,  gazing  on  the  brook, 

We  leap  at  stars,  and  fasten  in  the  mud ; 

At  glory  grasp,  and  sink  in  infamy. 

Ambition  !  pow'rful  source  of  good  and  ill ! 

Thy  strength  in  man,  like  length  of  wing  in  birds, 
30  When  disengag'd  from  earth,  with  greater  ease 


Ex.  19-22.]      EXEECISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  213 

And  swifter  flight  transports  us  to  the  skies  ; 
By  toys  entangled,  or  in  guilt  bemir'd, 
It  turns  a  ciirse  ;  it  is  our  chain,  and  scourge, 
In  this  dark  dungeon,  where  confin'd  we  lie, 
5  Close  grated  by  the  sordid  bars  of  sense  ; 
All  prospect  of  eternity  shut  out ; 
And,  but  for  execution,  ne'er  set  free. 

In  spite  of  all  the  truths  the  muse  has  sung, 
Ne'er  to  be  pri^'d  enough  !  enough  revolv'd  ! 

10  Are  there  who  wrap  the  world  so  close  about  them, 
They  see  no  farther  than  the  clouds  ?  and  dance 
On  heedless  vanity's  fantastic  toe  ? 
Till,  stumbling  at  a  straw,  in  their  career, 
Headlong  they  plunge,  where  end  both  dance  and 
song. 

15  Are  there  on  earth,— (let  me  not  call  them  rnen,) 
Who  lodge  a  soul  immortal  in  their  breasts  \ 
Unconscious  as  the  mountain  of  its  ore  ; 
Or  rock,  of  its  inestimable  gem  ? 
When  rocks  shall  melt,  and  mountains  vanish,  these 

20  Shall  knbw  their  treasure  ;  treasure,  then,  no  more. 

Are  there,  (still  more  amazing  !)  who  resist 

The  rising  thought  ?     Who  smother,  in  its  birth, 

The  glorious  truth  f     Who  struggle  to  be  brutes  9 

Who  through  this  bosom-barrier  burst  their  way, 

25  And,  with  revers'd  ambition,  strive  to  sink  ? 

Who  labour  downwards  through  th'  opposing  pow'r 
Of  instinct,  reason,  and  the  world  against  them, 
To  dismal  hopes,  and  shelter  in  the  shock 
Of  endless  night  ?  night  darker  than  the  grave's ! 

30  Who  fight  the  proofs  of  immortality  i 


214  EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.       [Ex.   1 9-22 

With  horrid  zeal,  and  execrable  arts, 
Work  all  their  energies,  level  their  black  fires, 
To  blot  from  man  this  attribute  divine, 
(Than  vital  blood  far  dearer  to  the  wise) 
5  Blasphemers,  and  rank  atheists  to  themselves  ? 

Young. 

10.  Look  nature  through,  'tis  revoliition  all  :        flfft 
All  change  ;  no  death.    Day  follows  night;  and  nigKt 
The  dying  day  ;  stars  rise,  and  set,  and  rise ; 
Earth  takes  th'  example.     See,  the  Summer  gay, 

10  With  her  green  chaplet,  and  ambrosial  flowers, 
Droops  into  pallid  Autumn  :   Winter  grey, 
Horrid  with  frost,  and  turbulent  with  storm, 
Blows  Autumn,  and  his  golden  fruits,  away  ; — 
Then  melts  into  the  Spring  :  Soft  Spring,  with  breath 

15  Favonian,  from  warm  chambers  of  the  south. 
Recalls  the^r^^.     All,  to  re-flourish,  fades  ; 
As  in  a  wheel,  all  sinks,  to  re-ascend. 
Emblems  of  man,  who  passes,  not  expires. 
Look  down  on  earth. — What  seest  thou  ?  Wondrous 
things ! 

20  Terrestrial  wonders,  that  eclipse  the  skies. 

What  lengths  of  labour'd  lands !  what  loaded  seas ! 
Loaded  by  man,  for  pleasure,  wealth,  or  war ! 
Seas,  winds,  and  planets,  into  service  brought. 
His  art  acknowledge,  and  promote  his  ends. 

25  Nor  can  th'  eternal  rdcksb'is  will  withstand  : 
What  levell'd  mountains  !  and  what  lifted  vales  ! 
O'er  vales  and  mountains,  sumptuous  cities  swell. 
And  gild  our  landscape  witb  their  glitt'ring  spires. 
Some  'mid  the  wond'ring  waves  majestic  rise ; 


Ex.   19-22.]  EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  216 

And  Neptune  holds  a  mirror  to  their  charms. 

See,  wide  dominions  ravished  from  the  deep  ! 

The  narrow'd  deep  with  indignation  foams. 

How  the  tall  temples,  as  to  meet  their  gods, 
5  Ascend  the  skies  !  the  proud  triumphal  arch 

Shews  us  half  heav'n  beneath  its  ample  bend. 

High  thro'  mid  air,  here  streams  are  taught  to  flow : 

Whole  rivers,  there,  laid  by  in  basons,  sleep. 

Here,  plains  turn  oceans ;  there;  vast  oceans  join 
10  Thro'  kingdoms  channel'd  deep  from  shore  to  shore  : 

And  changed  creation  takes  its  face  from  man. 

Earth's  disembowel'd  !  measured  are  the  skies  ! 

Stars  are  detected  in  their  deep  recess  ! 

Creation  widens  !  vanquish'd  nature  yields  ! 
15  Her  secrets  are  extorted  !  art  prevails  ! 

What  monument  of  genius,  spirit,  power  ! 

Young, 

11.  The  world's  a  prophecy  of  worlds  to  come  ; 

And  who,  what  God  foretels,  (who  speaks  in  things^ 

Still  louder  than  in  words,)  shall  dare  deny  ? 
20  If  nature's  arguments  appear  too  weak. 

Turn  a  new  leaf,  and  stronger  read  in  m«n. 

If  man  sleeps  on,  untaught  by  what  he  sees. 

Can  he  prove  infidel  to  what  he  feels? 

Who  reads  his  bosom,  reads  immortal  life  ; 
25  Or,  nature,  there,  imposing  on  her  sons. 

Has  written /a6Zes ;  man  was  made  a  lie. 
Why  discontent  for  ever  harbour'd  there  f 

Incurable  consumption  of  our  peace  ! 

Resolve  me,  why,  the  cottager  and  king, 
30  He,  whom  sea-sever'd  realms  obey,  and  he 


216  EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  [Ex.  ll>-22. 

Who  steals  his  whole  dominion  from  the  waste, 

Repelling  winter  blasts  with  mud  and  straw, 

Disquieted  alike,  draw  sigh  for  sigh, 

In  fate  so  distant,  in  complaint  so  near*  ? 
5       Reason  progressive,  instinct  is  complete  ; 

Swift  instinct  leaps  ;  slow  reason  feebly  climbs. 

Brutes  soon  their  zenith  reach  ;  their  little  all 

Flows  in  at  once  ;  in  ctges  they  no  more 

Could  know,  or  do,  or  covet,  or  enjoy. 
10  Were  man  to  live  coeval  with  the  siin. 

The  patriarch-pupil  would  be  learning  still  ; 

Yet,  dying,  leave  his  lesson  half  unlearnt. 

Men  perish  in  advance,  as  if  the  sun 
.    Should  set  ere  noon,  in  eastern  oceans  drown'd  ; 
15  To  man,  why,  stepdame  nature  !  so  severe  i 

Why  thrown  aside  thy  master-piece  half  wrought, 

While  meaner  efforts  thy  last  hand  enjoy  ? 

Or,  if  abortively,  poor  man  must  die. 

Nor  reach,  what  reach  he  might,  why  die  in  dread  ? 
20  Why  curst  with  foresight  ?  wise  to  misery  i 

Why  of  his  proud  prerogative  the  prey  ? 

Why  less  pre-eminent  in  r^nk,  than  pain  ? 
His  immortality  alone  can  solve 

The  darkest  of  enigmas,  human  hope; 
25  Of  all  the  darkest,  if  at  death  we  die. 

Hope,  eager  hope,  th'  assassin  of  our  joy, 

All  present  blessings  treading  wider  foot. 

Is  scarce  a  milder  tyrant  than  despair. 

With  no  past  toils  content,  still  planning  new, 
30  Hope  turns  us  o'er  to  death  alone  for  ease. 

Possession,  why  more  tasteless  than  pursuit  ? 


Ex.  19-22.]       EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  217 


Why  is  a  wish  far  dearer  than  a  crown  ? 

That  wish  accomplish'd,  why,  the  grave  of  bliss  ? 

Because,  in  the  great  future,  bury'd  deep, 

Beyond  our  plans  of  empire  and  renown, 
5  Lies  all  that  man  with  ardour  should  pursue  ; 

And  HE  who  made  him,  bent  him  to  the  right. 
Why  beats  thy  bosom  with  illustrious  dreams 

Of  self-exposure,  laudable,  and  great? 

Of  gallant  enterprise,  and  glorious  death  ? 
1 0  Die  for  thy  country  ! — Thou  romantic  fool ! 

Seize,  seize  the  plank  thyself,  and  let  her  sink  : 

Thy  country  !  what  to  Thee  ? — The  Godhead,  what  ? 

(I  speak  with  awe  !)  though  He  should  bid  thee  bleed? 

If,  with  thy  blood,  thy  final  hope  is  spilt, 
15  Nor  can  Omnipotence  reward  the  blow  ; 

Be  deaf;  preserve  thy  being  ?  disobey. 
Since  virtue's  recompense  is  doubtful,  here, 

If  man  dies  wholly,  well  may  we  demand, 

Why  is  man  sufFer'd  to  be  good  in  vain  ? 
20  Why  to  be  good  in  vain,  is  man  enjoTn'd  ? 

Why  to  be  good  in  vain,  is  man  betray'd  ? 

Betray'd  by  traitors  lodg'd  in  his  own  breast, 

By  sweet  complacencies  from  virtue  felt  ? 

Why  whispers  nature  lies  on  virtue's  part  ? 
25  Or  if  blind  instinct  (which  assumes  the  name 

Of  sacred  conscience)  plays  the  fool  in  man, 

Why  reason  made  accomplice  in  the  cheat  ? 

Why  are  the  wisest  loudest  in  her  praise  ? 

Can  man  by  reason's  beam  be  led  astray  ? 
30  Or,  at  his  peril,  imitate. his  God  ? 

Since  virtue  sometimes  ruins  us  on  earth, 
19 


218  EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  [Ex.  19-22. 

Or  both  are  true  ;  or,    man  survives  the  grave. 

Or  own  the  soul  immortal,  or  invert 
All  order.     Go,  mock-majesty  !  go,  man  ! 
And  bow  to  thy  superiors  of  the  stall ; 

5     Through  ev'ry  scene  of  sense  superior  far  : 

They  graze  the  turf  untill'd ;  they  drink  the  stream, 
No  foreign  clime  they  ransack  for  their  robes ; 
Nor  brothers  cite  to  the  litigious  bar  ; 
Their  good  is  good  entire,  unmixt,  unmarr'd  ; 

10  They  find  a  paradise  in  ev'ry  field, 

On  boughs  forbidden  where  no  curses  hang : 

Their  ill  no  more  than  strikes  the  sense ;  unstretch'd 

By  previous  dread,  or  murmur  in  the  rear ; 

When  the  worst  comes,  it  comes  unfear'd  ;  one  stroke 

15  Begins,  and  ends,  their  woe :  They  die  but  once  ; 
Blest,  incommunicable  privilege  !  for  which 
Proud  man,  who  rules  the  globe,  and  reads  the  stars, 
Philosopher,  or  hero,  sighs  in  vain.  Young, 

12.  He  ceas'd  ;  and  next  him  Moloch,  scepter'd  king 
20  Stood  up ;  the  strongest  and  fiercest  Spirit 
That  fought  in  Heav'n,  now  fiercer  by  despair  : 
His  trust  was  with  th'  Eternal  to  be  deem'd 
Equal  in  strength,  and  rather  than  be  lesSy 
Car'd  not  to  be  at  all ;  with  that  care  lost 
25  Went  all  his  fear  :  of  God,  or  Hell,  or  worse, 
He  reck'd  not,  and  these  words  thereafter  spake. 

"  My  sentence  is  for  open  wctr;  of  wiles, 
More  unexpert,  I  boast  not ;  them  let  those 
Contrive  who  need,  or  when  they  need,  not  now ; 
30  For,  while  tliey  sit  contriving,  shall  the  rest, 


Ex.    19-22.]         EXERCISES  ON   EMPHASIS.  219 

y— ■  "~ 

Millions  that  stand  in  arms,  and,  longing,  wait 
The  signal  to  ascend,  sit  lingWing  here 
Heav'n's  fugitives,  and  for  their  dwelling-place 
Accept  this  dark  opprobious  den  of  shame, 
5  The  prison  of  his  tyranny  who  reigns 
By  our  delay  ?  JVd,  let  us  rather  choose, 
Arm'd  with  Hell-flames  and  fury,  all  at  once, 
O'er  Heav'n's  high  tow'rs  to  force  resistless  way, 
Turning  our  tortures  into  horrid  arms, 

iO  Against  the  Torturer  ;  when  to  meet  the  noise 
Of  his  almighty  engine  he  shall  hear 
Infernal  thunder,  and  for  lightning,  see 
Black  fire  and  horror  shot  with  equal  rage 
Among  his  Angels,  and  his  throne  itself, 

15  Mix'd  with  Tartarean  sulphur,  and  strange  fire. 
His  own  invented  torments,     (o)  But  perhaps 
The  way  seems  difficult  and  steep,  to  scale 
With  upright  wing  against  a  higher  foe. 
Let  such  bethink  them,  if  the  sleepy  drench 

20  Of  that  forgetful  lake  benumb  not  still, 
That  in  our  proper  motion  we  ascend 
Up  to  our  native  seat  :  descent  nnd  fall 
To  us  is  adverse.     Who  but  felt  of  late. 
When  the  fierce  foe  hung  on  our  broken  rear, 

25  Insulting,  and  pursued  us  through  the  deep. 
With  what  compulsion  and  laborious  flight 
We  sunk  thus  low  ?     Th'  ascent  is  easy  then  ; 
Th'  event  is  fear'd  ;  should  we  again  provoke 
Our  stronger,  some  worse  way  his  wrath  may  find 

30  To  our  destruction,  if  there  be  in  Hell 

Fear  to  be  worse  destroy'd  :  what  can  be  worse 


220  EXERCISES  ON  EWPHASIS.        [Ex.  19-22. 

Than  to  dwell  A^re,  driv'n  out  from  bliss,  condemn'd 

In  this  abhorred  deep  to  utter  woe  : 

Where  pain  of  unextinguishable  fire 

Must  exercise  us  without  hope  of  end 
3  The  vassals  of  his  anger,  when  the  scourge 

Inexorable,  and  the  torturing  hour, 

Calls  us  to  penance  ?     More  destroy'd  than  thus, 

We  should  be  quite  abolish'd,  and  expire. 

What  year  we  then  ?  what  doubt  we  to  incense 
10  His  utmost  ire  ?  which,  to  the  height  enrag'd, 

Will  either  quite  consume  us,  and  reduce 

To  nothing  this  essential,  (happier  far 

Than  miserable,  to  have  eternal  being,)  ^^     • 

Or,  if  our  substance  be  indeed  divine,  9§  f 

16  And  cannot  cease  to  be,  we  are  at  worst 

On  this  side  nothing  ;  and  hy  proof  we  feel 

Our  pow'r  sufficient  to  disturb  his  Heaven, 

And  with  perpetual  inroads  to  alarm. 

Though  inaccessible,  his  fatal  throne ; 
20  Which  if  not  victory,  is  yet  revenge." 


13.  I  should  be  much  for  open  war,  O  peers 
As  not  behind  in  hate,  if  what  was  urg'd. 
Main  reason  to  persuade  immediate  war, 
Did  not  rfwsuade  me  most,  and  seem  to  cast 

25  Ominous  conjecture  on  the  whole  success,-— 
When  he,  who  most  excels  in  fact  of  arms, 
In  what  he  counsels,  and  in  what  excels, 
Mistrustful,  grounds  his  courage  on  despair. 
And  utter  dissolution,  as  the  scope 

30  Of  all  his  aim,  after  some  dire  revenge. 


I 


II 


Ex.  19-22.]        EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  221 

First,  what  revenge  i  The  tow'rs  of  Heav'n  are  fiU'd 
With  armed  watch,  that  render  all  access 
Impregnable  ;  oft  on  the  bord'ring  deep 
Encamp  their  legions,  or,  with  obscure  wing, 
5  Scout  far  and  wide  into  the  realm  of  night, 
Scorning  surprise.     Or,  could  we  break  our  way 
Byfdrce,  and  at  our  heels  all  hell  should  rise. 
With  blackest  insurrection,  to  confound 
Heav'n's  purest  light,  yet  our  greats  enemy, 

10  All  incorruptible,  would  on  his  throne 
Sit  unpolluted,  and  th'  ethereal  mould. 
Incapable  of  stain,  would  soon  expel 
Her  mischief,  and  purge  off  the  baser  fire. 
Victorious.     Thus  repuls'd,  our  final  hope 

15  Is  flat  despair :  we  must  exasperate 

Th'  almighty  Victor  to  spend  all  his  rage, 
And  that  must  end  us,  that  must  be  our  cure, 
To  be  no  mdre :  sad  cure ;  for  who  would  lose, 
Though  full  of  pain,  this  intellectual  being, 

20  Those  thoughts  that  wander  through  eternity, 
To  perish  rather,  swallow'd  up  and  lost 
In  the  wide  womb  of  uncreated  night. 
Devoid  of  sense  and  motion  ?  and  who  knows, 
Let  this  be  good,  whether  our  angry  foe 

25   Can  give  it,  or  will  ever  ?  how  he  cctn 

Is  doubtful ;  that  he  never  will  is  sure.  Milton, 

14. Aside  the  Devil  turn'd 

For  envy,  yet  with  jealous  leer  malign 
Ey'd  them  askance,  and  to  himself  thus  plain'd. 
30  "  Sight  hateful,  sight  tormenting  !  thus  these  two 

19* 


i^22  EXEKCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.         [Ex.    lD-2;^. 

Imparadis'd  in  one  another's  arms, 
The  happier  Eden,  shall  enjoy  their  fill 
Of  bliss  on  bliss  ;  while  I  to  H^ll  am  thrust. 
Where,  neither  joy  nor  love,  but  fierce  desire, 
6  (Amongst  our  other  torments  not  the  least,) 
Still  unfulfilled,  with  pain  of  longing  pines. 
Yet  let  me  not  forget  what  I  have  gained 
From  their  own  mouths :  all  is  not  theirs  it  seems  ; 
One  fatal  tree.there  stands,  (of  knowledge  call'd,) 

10  Forbidden  them  to  taste.     Knowledge  forbidden  ? 
Suspicious,  reasonless  !  Why  should  their  Lord 
Envy  them  that  ?  Can  it  be  sin  to  know  ? 
Can  it  be  death  ?  and  do  they  only  stand 
By  Ignorance  ?  is  that  their  happy  state, 

15  The  proof  of  their  obedience  and  their  faith? 
O  fair  foundation  laid  whereon  to  build 
Their  ruin !    Hence  I  will  excite  their  minds, 
With  more  desire  to  know,  and  to  reject 
Envious  commands,  invented  with  design 

20  To  keep  them  low  whom  knowledge  might  exalt, 
Equal  with  Gods ;  aspiring  to  be  such. 
They  taste  and  die  ;  what  likelier  can  ensue  ? 
But  first  with  narrow  search  1  must  walk  round 
This  garden,  and  no  corner  leave  unspy'd  ; 

26  A  chance,  but  thance,  may  lead  where  I  may  meet 
Some  wandVing  Spi'rit  of  Heav'n,  by  fountain  side, 
Or  in  thick  shade  retir'd,  from  him  to  draw 
What  further  would  be  learn'd.     Live  while  ye  may, 
Yet  happy  pair ;  enjoy,  till  1  return, 

30  Short  pl<\ij>ures,  for  long  woes  are  to  succeed." 
So  saying,  his  proud  step  he  scornful  turn'd, 


Ex.  19-22.]  EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  ^  223 

But  with  sly  circumspection,  and  began, 
Through  wood,  through  waste,  o'er  hill,  o'er  dale,  his 
roam.  Milton, 


In  the  following:  speech,  where  an  emphatic  clause  is  in  Italic, 
or  has  the  mark  of  monotone,  it  requires  a  firm,  full  voice,  and 
generally  a  low  note. 

15.         Speech  of  Titus  Quinctius  to  the  Romans, 

Though  lam  not  conscious,  O  Romans,  of  any  crime 
by  me  committed,  it  is  yet  with  the  utmost  shame  and 
confusion  that  I  appear  in  your  assembly.  You  have 
seen    it — posterity  will  know  it !— in  the   fourth  consul- 

5ship  of  Titus  Quinctius,  the  ^qui  and  Volsci,  (scarce  a 
match  for  the  Hernici  alone,)  came  in  arms,  to  the  very 
gates  oj  Rome, — (J  and  went  away  unchastised  !  The 
course  of  our  manners,  indeed,  and  the  state  of  our  af- 
fairs, have  long  been  such,  that  I  had   no  reason  to   pre- 

10  sage  much  good  ;  but,  could  I  have  imagined  that  so 
great  an  ignominy  would  have  befallen  me  this  year,  I 
would,  by  banishment  or  death,  (if  all  other  means  had 
failed,)  have  avdided  the  station  1  am  now  in.  (°)  fVhat  ? 
might  Rome  then  have  been   taken,  if  those   men   who 

15  were  at  our  gates  had  not  wanted  courage  for  the  at- 
tempt ? — Rome  taken,  whilst  I  was  consul? — (o)Of  hon- 
ours I  had  sufficient — of  life  enough — more  than  enough 
— I  should  have  died  in  my  third  consulate. 

But  who  are  they  that  our  dastardly  enemies  thus  des- 

20  pise  ? — the  consids,  or  ydu,  Romans  ?  If  we  are  in 
fault,  depdse  us,  or  punish  us  yet  more  severely.  If  you 
are  to  blame — may  neither  gods  nor  men  punish  your 
faults  !  only  may  you  repent ! — JVd,  Romans,  the  confi- 


224  ixERCisES  ON  ENPHASis.      [Ex.  19-22. 

dence  of  our   enemies  is  not  owing  to   their  cofirage,  or 

S5to  their  belief  of  your  cdwardice :  they  have  been  too  of- 
ten vhnquished^  not  to  know  both  themselves  and  you. 
(^)  Discord,  discord  is  the  ruin  of  this  city  !  The  eternal 
disputes,  between  the  senate  and  the  people,  are  the  sole 
cause   of  our    misfortunes.     While   we    set    no    bounds 

30 to  our  dominion,  nor  you  to  your  liberty;  while  you 
impatiently  endure  Partrician  magistrates,  and  we  Ple- 
beian ;  our  enemies  take  heart,  grow  elated,  and  pre- 
sumptuous, (q)  In  the  name  of  the  immortal  gods,  what  is 
it,  Romans,  you  would  have  ?     You   desired  Tribunes  ; 

»for  the  sake  of  peace,  we  granted  them.  You  were  ea- 
ger to  have  Decemvirs  ;  we  consented  to  their  creation. 
You  grew  wiary  of  these  Decemvirs ;  we  obliged  them 
to  abdicate.  Your  hatred  pursued  them  when  reduced 
to  private   men  ;  and  we  suffered   you  to  put  to  death, 

40 or  banish.  Patricians  of  the  first  rank  in  the  republic. 
You  insisted  upon  the  restoration  of  the  Tribuneship; 
we  yielded  ;  we  quietly  saw  Consuls  of  your  own  faction 
elected.  You  have  the  protection  of  your  Tribunes,  and 
the  privilege  of  appeal ;  the  Patricians  are  subjected  to  the 

45  decrees  of  the  Commons.  Under  pretence  of  equal  and 
impartial  laws,  you  have  invaded  our  rights ;  and  we 
have  suffered  it,  and  we  stUl  suffer  it.  (°)  When  shall  we 
see  an  end  of  discord  ?  When  shall  we  have  one  inter- 
est, and  one  common  country  ?     Victorious  and  triumph- 

aoant,  you  show  less  temper  than  we  under  defeat.  When 
you  are  to  contend  with  Us,  you  can  seize  the  Aventine 
hill,  you  can  possess  yourselves  of  the  Mons  Sacer. 

The  enemy  is  at  our  gates, — the  Xsquiline  is  near 
heing  taken, — and  nobody  stirs  to  hinder  it !  But  against 


Ex.  19-22.]         EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  225 

55  US  you  are  valiant,  against  us  you  can  arm  with  dili- 
gence. Come  on,  then,  besiege  the  senate-house,  make 
a  camp  of  the  forum,  fill  the  jails  with  our  chief  nobles, 
and  when  you  have  achieved  these  glorious  exploits, 
then,  at  last,  sally  out  at  the  -ffisquiline   gate,  with  the 

«o  same  fierce  spirits,  against  the  enemy.  Does  your  reso- 
lution fail  you  for  this  ?  Go  then,  and  behold  from  our 
walls  your  lands  ravaged,  your  houses  plundered  and 
in  flames,  the  whole  country  laid  waste  with  fire  and 
sword.      Have  you  any  thing  here  to  repair   these  da- 

«5 mages?  Will  the  Tribunes  make  up  your  losses  to  you  ? 
They  will  give  you  words  as  many  as  you  please  ;  bring 
impeachments  in  abundance  against  the  prime  men  in 
the  state  ;  heap  laws  upon  laws  ;  assemblies  you  shall 
have  without  end  :    but  will  any  of  you  return  the  richer 

vo  from  those  assemblies  ?  Q  Extinguish,  O  Romans,  these 
fatal  divisions  ;  generously  break  this  cursed  enchant- 
ment, which  keeps  you  buried  in  a  scandalous  inaction. 
Open  your  eyes,  and  consider  the  management  of  those 
ambitious  men,  who    to    make    themselves    powerful    in 

75  their  party,  study  nothing  but  how  they  may  foment  rfi- 
visions  in  the  commonwealth, — If  you  can  but  summon 
up  your  former  courage,  if  you  will  now  march  out  of 
Rome  with  your  consuls,  there  is  no  punishment  you  can 
inflict,  which  I  will  not  submit  to,  if  1   do   not,   in   a  few 

80  days,  drive  those  pillagers  out  of  our  territory.  This 
terror  of  war,  with  which  you  seem  so  grievously  struck, 
shall  quickly  be  removed  from  Rome  to  their  own  cities. 


226  EXERCISES  ON  EMPHASIS.  [Ex.  23. 

23]  Page  88.     Difference  between  the  common  and  the 
intensive  inflection. 

The  difficulty  to  be  avoided  may  be  seen  sufficiently  in  an  ex- 
ample or  two  There  is  a  ofeneral  tendency  to  make  the  slide  of  the 
voice  as  g^reat  in  dtg^ree,  when  there  is  little  stress,  as  when  there  is 
much  ;  whereas  in  the  former  case  the  slide  should  be  gentle,  and 
tometimes  hardly  perceptible. 

Common  slide. 

To  play  with  important  truths  ;  to  disturb  the  repose 
of  established  tenets  ;  to  subtilize  objections  ;  and  elude 
proof,  is  too  often  the  sport  of  youthful  vanity,  of  which 
maturer  experience  commonly  repents. 

Were  the  miser's  repentance  upon  the  neglect  of  a 
good  bargain  ;  his  sorrow  for  being  over-reached  ;  his 
hope  of  improving  a  sum  ;  and  his  fear  of  falling  into 
want ;  directed  to  their  proper  objects,  they  would  make 
so  many  Christian  graces  and  virtues. 

Intensive  slide. 

Consider,  I  beseech  you,  what  was  the  part  of  a 
faithful  citizen  ?  of  a  prudent,  an  active,  and  an  honest 
minister  ?  Was  he  not  to  secure  Euboea,  as  our  defence 
against  all  attacks  by  sea  ?  Was  he  not  to  make  Beotia 
our  barrier  on  the  midland  side  ?  The  cities  bordering 
on  Peloponnesus  our  bulwark  on  that  quarter  ?  Was  he 
not  to  attend  with  due  precaution  to  the  importation  of 
corn,  that  this  trade  might  be  protected  through  all  its 
progress  up  to  our  own  harbours  ?  Was  he  not  to  cover 
those  districts  which  we  commanded,  by  seasonable  de- 
tachments, as  the  Proconesus,  the  Chersonesus,  and  Ten- 
edos  ?    To  exert  himself  in  the  assembly  for  this  pur- 


Ex.  24.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  227 

pose,  while  with  equal  zeal  he  laboured  to  gain  others 
to  our  interest  and  alliance,  as  Byzantium,  Abydus,  and 
Euboea  ?  Was  he  not  to  cut  off  the  best,  and  most  im- 
portant resources  of  our  enemies,  and  to  supply  those  in 
which  our  country  was  defective  ? — And  all  this  you  gain- 
ed by  my  counsels,  and  my  administration. 


EXERCISES  ON  MODUIiATXOM*. 

24]  Page  118.  Compass  of  voice. 

To  assist  in  cultivating  the  bottom  of  the  voice,  I  have  selected 
examples  of  sublime  or  solemn  description,  which  admit  of  but  lit- 
tle inflection  ;  and  some  which  contain  the  fisfure  of  simile.  Where 
the  mark  for  low  note  is  inserted,  the  reader  will  take  pains  to  keep 
dowa  his  voice,  and  to  preserve  it  ia  neai'ly  the  grave  monotone. 

1.  (o)  He  bowed  the  heavens  also,  and  came  down  ; 
and  darkness  was  under  his  feet. — And  he  rode  upon  a 
cherub,  and  did  fly  :  yea,  he  did  fly  upon  the  wings  of 
the  wind. — He  made  darkness  his  secret  place  ;  his  pavil- 
ion round  about  him  were  dark  waters  and  thick  clouds  of 
the  skies. — At  the  brightness  that  was  before  him  his  thick 
clouds  passed,  hailstones  and  coals  of  fire. — The  Lord 
also  thundered  in  the  heavens,  and  the  Highest  gave  his 
voice  ;  hailstones  and  coals  of  fire. 

2.  (o)  And  then  shall  appear  the  sign  of  the  Son  of 
man  in  heaven :  and  then  shall  all  the  tribes  of  the  earth 
mourn,  and  they  shall  see  the  Son  of  man,  coming  in  the 
clouds  of  heaven,  with  power  and  great  glory. — And  he 
shall  send  his  angels,  with  a  great  sound  of  a  trumpet,  and 
they  shall  gather  together  his  elect  from  the  four  winds, 
from  one  end  of  heaven  to  the  other. 

3.  (o)  And  the  heaven  departed  as  a  scroll,  when  it  is 
rolled   together ;    and  every  mountain  and  island  were 


228  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  24. 

moved  out  of  their  places.  2  And  the  kings  of  the  earth, 
and  the  great  men,  and  the  rich  men,  and  the  chief  cap- 
tains, and  the  mighty  men,  and  every  bond-man,  and  ev- 
ery free-man,  hid  themselves  in  the  dens  and  in  the  rocks 
of  the  mountains ;  3  And  said  to  the  mountains  and  rocks, 
Fall  on  us,  and  hide  us  from  the  face  of  him  that  sitteth 
on  the  throne,  and  from  the  wrath  of  the  Lamb : — For 
the  great  day  of  his  wrath  is  come  ;  and  who  shall  be  able 
to  stand  ? 

4  And  I  saw  a  great  white  throne,  and  him  that  sat  on 
it,  from  whose  face  the  earth  and  the  heaven  fled  away ; 
and  there  was  found  no  place  for  them.  5  And  1  saw  the 
dead,  small  and  great,  stand  before  God ;  and  the  books 
were    opened  :  and   another  book  was  opened,  which  is 
the  book  of  life  :  and  the  dead  were  judged  out  of  those| 
things  which  were  written  in  the  books,  according  to  their] 
works.  6  And  the  sea  gave  up  the  dead  which  were  in  itjj 
and  death  and  hell  delivered  up  the  dead  which  were  inj 
them  :  and  they  were  judged  every  man   according  to 
their  works. 


4.  Tis  listening  Fear  and  dumb  Amazement  all : 
When  to  the  startled  eye,  the  sudden  glance 
Appears  far  south,  eruptive  through  the  cloud  : 
And  following  slower,  in  explosion  fast, 

5  The  Thunder  raises  his  tremendous  voice. 
At  first  heard  solemn  o'er  the  verge  of  heaven, 
The  tempest  growls  ;  (o)but  as  it  nearer  comes, 
And  rolls  its  awful  burthen  on  the  wind  ; 
The  lightnings  flash  a  larger  curve,  and  more 

10  The  noise  astounds:  till  over  head  a  sheet 
Of  livid  flame  discloses  wide  ;  then  shuts 
And  opens  wider  ;  shuts  and  opens,  still 
Expansive,  wrapping  ether  in  a  blaze. 
Follows  the  loosened  aggravated  roar, 

15  Enlarging,  deep'ning,  mingling,  peal  on  peal 
CrushM  horrible,  convulsing  heaven  and  earth. 


Ex.  24.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  229 

5.  'Twas  then  great  Marlb'rough's  mighly  soul  was 

prov'd, 
That  in  tlje  shock  of  charging  hosts  unnnov'd, 
Annidst  confusion,  horror,  and  despair, 
Examin'd  all  the  dreadful  scenes  of  war ; 
In  peaceful  thought  the  field  of  death  surveyed, 
To  fainting  squadrons  sent  the  timely  aid  ; 
Inspir'd  repuls'd  battalions  to  engage, 
And  taught  the  doubtful  battle  where  to  rage. 
(q)  So  when  an  angel,  by  divine  command, 
With  rising  tempests  shakes  a  guilty  land, 
(Such  as  of  late  o'er  pale  Britannia  past,) 
Calm  and  serene  he  drives  the  furious  blast ; 
And  pleas'd  th'  Almighty's  orders  to  perform, 
Rides  on  the  whirlwind,  and  directs  the  storm. 

6.  Rous'd  from  his  trance,   he   mounts  with  eyes 

aghast. 
When  o'er  the  ship,  in  undulation  vast, 
A  giant  surge  down  rushes  from  on  high, 
And  fore  and  aft  dissever'd  ruins  lie  ; 
(o)  As  when,  Britannia's  empire  to  maintain. 
Great  Hawke  descends  in  thunder  on  the  main. 
Around  the  brazen  voice  of  battle  roars. 
And  fatal  lightnings  blast  the  hostile  shores  ; 
Beneath  the  storm  their  shatter'd  navies  groan. 
The  trembling  deep  recoils  from  zone  to  zone  ; 
Thus  the  torn  vessel  felt  the  enormous  stroke, 
The  beams  beneath  the  thund'ring  deluge  broke. 

7.  To  whom  in  brief  thus  Abdiel  stern  reply'd. 
Reign  thou  in  Hell,  thy  kingdom ;  let  me  serve 
In  Heav'n  God  ever  blest  and  his  divine 
Behests  obey,  worthiest  to  be  obey'd  ; 

5     Yet  chains  in  Hell,  not  realms  expect :  meanwhile 
From  me,  (return'd  as  erst  thou  saidst  from  flight,) 
This  greeting  on  thy  impious  crest  receive. 
20 


2S0  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  24. 

(°)  So  say'ing,  a  noble  stroke  he  lifted  high, 
Which  hung  not,  but  so  swift  with  tempest  fell 

10  On  the  proud  crest  of  Satan,  that  no  sight. 

Nor  motion  of  swift  thought,  less  could  his  shield. 
Such  ruin  intercept ;  ten  paces  huge 
He  back  recoil'd  ;  the  tenth  on  bended  knee 
His  massy  spear  upstay'd  ;  as  if  on  earth 

15  Winds  under  ground,  or  waters  forcing  way. 
Sidelong  had  push'd  a  mountain  from  his  seat, 

Half  sunk  with  all  his  pines. 

Now  storming  fury  rose, 

And  clamour  such  as  heard  in  Heav'n  till  now 

20  Was  never  ;  arms  on  armour  clashing,  bray'd 
Horrible  discord,  and  the  madding  wheels 
Of  brazen  chariots  rag'd  ;  dire  was  the  noise 
Of  conflict;  over  head  the  dismal  hiss 
Of  fiery  darts  in  flaming  vollies  flew, 

25  And  flying,  vaulted  either  host  with  fire. 
So  under  fiery  cope  together  rush'd 
Both  battles  main,  with  ruinous  assault 
And  inextinguishable  rage  ;  all  Heaven 
Resounded,  and  had  Earth  been  then,  all  Earth 

30  Had  to  her  centre  shook. 

Long  time  in  even  scale M 

The  battle  hung  ;  till  Satan,  who  that  day  TJ 

Prodigious  pow'r  had  shown,  and  met  in  arms  T 

No  equal,  ranging  through  the  dire  attack 

35  Of  fighting  Seraphim  confus'd,  at  length 

Saw  where  the  sword  of  Michael  smote,  and  fell'd 
Squadrons  at  once  ;  with  huge  two-handed  sway, 
Brandish'd  aloft,  the  horrid  edge  came  down 
Wide  wasting  ;  such  destruction  to  withstand 

70  He  hasted,  and  oppos'd  the  rocky  orb 

Of  tenfold  adamant,  his  ample  shield,  ^H 

A  vast  circumference.     At  his  approach  ^^% 

The  great  Archangel  from  his  warlike  toil  t 

Surceas'd,  and  glad,  as  hoping  here  to  end 


Ex.  24.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  231 

40  Intestine  war  in  Heav'n,  th'  arch-foe  subdu'd. 
Now  wav'd  their  fiery  swords,  and  in  the  air 
Made  horrid  circles ;  two  broad  suns  their  shields 
Blaz'd  opposite,  while  expectation  stood 
In  horror;  from  each  hand  with  speed  retired, 

50  Where  erst  was  thickest  fight,  the  angelic  throng, 
And  left  large  fields,  unsafe  within  the  wind 
Of  such  commotion  ;  such  as,  to  set  forth 
Great  things  by  small,  if  nature's  concord  broke, 
Among  the  constellations  war  were  sprung, 

55  Two  planets  rushing  from  aspect  mahgn 
Of  fiercest  opposition  in  mid-sky 
Should  combat,  and  their  jarring  spheres  confound. 

Milton. 

The  following  examples  are  selected  as  a  specimen  of  those  pas- 
sages, which  are  most  favourable  to  the  cultivation  of  a  top  to  the 
voice.  In  pronouncing  these,  the  reader  should  aim  to  get  up  his 
voice  to  the  highest  note  on  which  he  can  articulate  with  freedom 
and  distinctness.  See  remarks  page  120.  If  the  student  wishes 
for  more  exam  pies  of  this  kind,  he  is  referred  to  Exercises  [5]. 

8.  Has  a  wise  and  good  God  furnished  us  with  de- 
sires which  have  no  correspondent  objects,  and  raised 
expectations  in  our  breasts,  with  no  other  view  but  to  dis- 
appoint them  ? — Are  we  to  be  for  ever  in  search  of  hap- 
piness, without  arriving  at  it,  either  in  this  world  or  the 
next.^ — Are  we  formed  with  a  passionate  longing  for 
immortality,  and  yet  destined  to  perish  after  this  short 
period  of  existence  ? — Are  we  prompted  to  the  noblest 
actions,  and  supported  through  life,  under  the  severest 
hardships  and  most  delicate  temptations,  by  the  hopes  of 
a  reward  which  is  visionary  and  chimerical,  by  the  ex- 
pectation of  praises,  of  which  it  is  utterly  impossible  for 
us  ever  to  have  the  least  knowledge  or  enjoyment  ? 

9.  (*^) "Whence  and  what  art  thou,  execrable  shapes, 
That  dar'st,  though  grim  and  terrible,  advance 
Thy  miscreated  front  athwart  my  way 
To  yonder  gates  ?  through  them  I  mean  to  pass, 


28B  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  25. 

5  That  be  assured,  withoul  leave  ask'd  of  thee  : 
Retire,  or  taste  thy  folly  ;  and  learn  by  proof, 
Hell-born,  not  to  contend  with  spi'rits  of  Heav'n." 

To  whom  the  goblin  full  of  wrath  reply'd  ; 
{^)  "Art  thou  that  traitor  Angel,  art  thou  he, 

10  Who  first  broke  peace  in  Heav'n  and  faith,  till  then 
Unbroken,  and  in  proud  rebellious  arms 
Drew  after  him  the  third  part  of  Heav'n's  sons, 
Conjur'd  against  the  High'est,  for  which  both  thou 
And  they,  outcast  from  God,  are  here  condemn'd 

15  To  waste  eternal  days  in  woe  and  pain  ? 

And  reckon'st  thou  thyself  with  spi'rits  of  Heaven, 
Hell-doom'd,  and  breath'st  defiance  here  and  scorn, 
Where  /reign  king,  and,  to  enrage  thee  more, 
Thy  king  and  lord  ?  Back  to  thy  punishment, 

20  False  fugitive,  and  to  thy  speed  add  icings^ 
Lest  with  a  whip  of  scorpions  1  pursue 
Thy  ling'ring,  or  with  one  stroke  of  this  dart, 
Strange  horrors  seize  thee,  and  pangs  unfelt  before." 

25.]  Page  120.        Transition. 

The  Exercises  of  the  foregoing  head  were  designed  to  accustom 
the  voice  to  exertion  on  the  extreme  notes  of  its  compass,  high  and 
low.  The  following  Exercises  under  this  head  are  intended  to 
accustom  the  voice  to  those  sCjddtn  transitions  which  sentiment 
often  requires,  not  only  as  to  pitchy  but  also  as  to  quantity, 

1.  The  Power  of  Eloquence. 

AN  ODE. 

1   Heard  ye  those  loud  contending  waves, 
That  shook  Cecropia's  pillar'd  state  ? 

Saw  ye  the  mighty  from  their  graves 

Look  up,  and  tremble  at  her  fate  ^ 

Who  shall  calm  the  angry  storm  ? 

Who  the  mighty  task  perform, 
And  bid  the  raging  tumult  cease  f" 

See  the  son  of  Hermes  rise  ; 


Ex.  25.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  233 

With  syren  tongue,  and  speaking  eyes, 
Hush  the  noise,  and  sooth  to  peacq  ! 

2  Lo  !  from  the  regions  of  the  North,    - 

The  reddening  storm  of  battle  pours  ; 
RolJs  along  the  trembling  earth. 
Fastens  on  the  Olynthian  towers. 

3  {^)  "Where  rests  the  sword  ? — where  sleep  the 

brave  ? 
Awake  !  Cecropia's  ally  save 

From  the  fury  of  the  blast ; 
Burst  the  storm  on  Phocis'  walls  ; 
Rise  !  or  Greece  for  ever  falls, 

'Up  t  or  Freedom  breathes  her  last !" 

4  (o)  The  jarring  States,  obsequious  now, 

View  the  Patriot's  hand  on  high  ; 
Thunder  gathering  on  his  brow. 
Lightning  flashing  from  his  eye  ! 

5  Borne  by  the  tide  of  words  along. 

One  voice,  one  mind,  inspire  the  throng  : 

(°°)  "  To  arms  !  to  arms  !  to  arms  !"  they  cry, 

"  Grasp  the  shield,  and  draw  the  sword, 

Lead  us  to  Philippi's  lord, 
Let  us  conquer  him — or  die  !" 

6  (o)  Ah  Eloquence  !  thou  wast  undone  ; 

Wast  from  thy  native  country  driven, 
When  Tyranny  eclips'd  the  sun. 
And  blotted  out  the  stars  of  heaven. 

7  When  Liberty  from  Greece  withdrew, 
And  o'er  the  Adriatic  flew. 

To  where  the  Tiber  pours  his  urn, 
She  struck  the  rude  Tarpeian  rock ; 
Sparks  were  kindled  by  the  shock — 

Again  thy  fires  began  to  burn  ! 
20* 


234  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  25. 

8  Now  shining  forth,  thou  mad'st  comphant 

The  Conscript  Fathers  to  thy  charms ; 
Roiis'd  the  world-bestriding  giant, 
Sinking  fast  in  Slavery's  arms  ! 

9  I  see  thee  stand  by  Freedom's  fane. 
Pouring  the  persuasive  strain, 

Giving  vast  conceptions  birth  : 
Hhrk  !  I  hear  thy  thunder's  sound, 
Shake  the  Forum  round  and  round — 

Shake  the  pillars  of  the  earth  ! 

10  First-born  of  Liberty  divine  ! 

Put  on  Religion'' s  bright  array  ; 
Speak !  and  the  starless  grave  shall  shine 
The  portal  of  eternal  day  ! 

1 1  Rise^  kindling  with  the  orient  beam  ; 
Let  Caharxfs  hill  inspire  the  theme  ! 

Unfold  the  garments  roU'd  in  blood  ! 
O  touch  the  soul,  touch  all  her  chords, 
With  all  the  omnipotence  of  words. 

And  point  the  way  to  Heaven — to  God. 

Cary. 

2.  Hohenlinden.,., Description  of  a  Battle  with  Firearms, 

1  (o)On  Linden,  when  the  sun  was  low, 
All  bloodless  lay  the  untrodden  snow. 
And  dark  as  winter,  was  the  flow 

Of  Iser,  rolling  rapidly. 

2  But  Linden  saw  another  sight, 
When  the  drum  beat  at  dead  of  night, 
Commanding  fires  of  death  to  light 

The  darkness  of  her  scenery. 

3  By  torch  and  trumpet  fast  arrayed, 
Each  warriour  drew  his  battle  blade, 


Ex.  25.  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  2S5 


And  furious  every  charger  neighed, 
To  join  the  dreadful  revelry, 

4  Then  shook  the  hills  with  thunder  riven, 
Then  rushed  the  steeds  to  battle  driven, 
And  louder  than  the  bolts  of  Heaven, 

Far  flashed  the  red  artillery. 

5  And  redder  yet  those  fires  shall  glow, 
O.i  Linden's  hills  of  bloodstained  snow  ; 
And  darker  yet  shall  be  the  flow 

Of  Iser  rolling  rapidly. 

G     'Tis  morn, — but  scarce  yon  lurid  sun 
Can  pierce  the  war  clouds,  rolling  dun, 
While  furious  Frank  and  fiery  Hun 
Shout  in  their  sulph'rous  canopy. 

7  The  combat  deepens.   (°°)  On,  ye  brave. 
Who  rush  to  glory,  or  the  grave ! 
Wave,  Munich,  all  thy  banners  wave  ! 

And  charge  with  all  thy  chivalry ! 

8  (°)  Ah  !  few  shall  part  where  many  meet  !* 
The  snow  shall  be  their  winding  sheet. 
And  every  turf  beneath  their  feet 

Shall  be  a  soldier's  sepulchre. 

Campbell. 
3.  Hamlet's  Soliloquy, 

This  is  one  of  the  most  difficult  thing^s  to  read  in  the  English 
language.  No  one  should  attempt  it  without  entering  into  the  sen- 
timent, by  recurring  to  the  story  of  Hamlet.  The  notation  which' 
1  have  given,  however  imperfect,  may  at  least  furnish  the  reader 
with  some  guide  in  the  management  of  his  voice.  Want  of  dis- 
crimination, has  been  the  common  fault  in  reading  this  soliloquy. 

To  be,  or  not  to  be  ?  ..  that  is  the  question. — 
Whether  'tis  nobler  in  the  mind,  to  suffer 
The  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune, 

*Soft. 


236  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  25. 

Or  to  lake  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles, 
5  And  by  opposing,  end  tliem  ? — To  die — to  sleep — 
N6  more  : — and,  by  a  sleep,  to  say  we  end 
The  heart-arch,  and  the  thousand  natural  shocks 
That  flesh  is  hefr  to  f — 'tis  a  consunnmation 
Devoutly  to  be  wish'd.     To  die  ; — to  sleep  ; — 

10  To  sleep  !  perchance,  to  dream : — Ay,  there's  the  rub; 
••  For  in  that  sleep  of  death  what  dreams  may  come, 
When  we  have  shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil, 
Must  give  us  pause.     There's  the  respect, 
That  makes  calamity  of  so  long  life ; 

15  For  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of  time,* 
The  oppressor's  wrong,  the  proud  man's  contumely. 
The  pangs  of  despis'd  love,  the  law's  delay. 
The  insolence  of  office,  and  the  spurns 
That  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes  ; 

20  When  he  himself  might  his  quietus  make 

With  a  bare  bddkin  ?  who  would  fardels  bear, 
To  groan  and  sweat  under  a  weary  life  ? 
(  Q  )  But  that  the  dread  of  something  after  death, 
That  undiscover'd  country,  from  whose  bourne 

25  No  traveller  returns,  puzzles  the  will ; 

And  makes  us  rather  bear  those  ills  we  have. 
Than  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of. 
Thus  conscience  does  make  cowards  of  us  all, — 
And  thus  the  native  hue  of  resolution 

30  Is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought; 
And  enterprises  of  great  pith  and  moment, 
With  this  regard  their  currents  turn  awry, 
And  lose  the  name  of  action. 

4.         Battle  of  Waterloo. 

1     There  was  a  sound  of  revelry  by  night, 
And  Belgium's  capital  had  gathered  then 

•  The  indignant  feeling  awakened  in  Hamlet  by  this  enumera- 
tion of  particulars,  requires  the  voice  gradually  to  rise  on  each, 
till  it  comes  to  the  mark  of  transition. 


Ex.  25.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  237 

Her  beauty  and  her  chivalry,  and  bright 
The  lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men : 
A  thousand  hearts  beat  happily  ;  and  when 
Music  arose  with  its  voluptuous  swell, 
Soft  eyes  looked  love  to  eyts  which  spake  again, 
And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell ; 
(JBut  hush  !  hark  !  ..  a  deep  sound  strikes  like  a  ris- 
ing knell ! 

2  Did  ye  not  hear  it  i — !Vo  ;  'twas  but  the  wind, 
Or  the  car  rattling  o'er  the  stonny  street  : 
(°)On  with  the  dance  !  let  joy  be  unconfined  ; 
No  sleep  till  morn,  when  youth  and  pleaure  meet 
To  chase  the  glov/ing  hours  with  flying  feet — 
(o)But,  hark! — that  heavy  sound  breaks  in  once  more, 
As  if  the  clouds  its  echo  would  repeat. 

And  nearer,  clearer,  deadlier  than  before  ! 
(°'*)  ^Arm  !  arm  !  it  is — it  is — the  cannon^s  opening 
roar  ! 

3  *Ah  !  then  and  there  was  hurrying  to  and  fro. 
And  gathering  tears,  and  tremblings  of  distress, 
And  cheeks  all  pale,  which  but  an  hour  ago 
Blushed  at  the  praise  of  their  own  loveliness  : 
And  there  were  sudden  partings,  such  as  press 
The  life  from  out  young  hearts,  and  choking  sighs 
Which  ne'er  miglit  be  repeated — who  could  guess 
If  ever  more  should  meet  those  mutual  eyes, 

Since  upon  night  so  sweet  such  awful  morn  could  rise  i 

\     And  there  was  mounting  in  hot  haste  ;  the  steed, 
The  ^mustering  squadron,  and  the  clattering  car. 
Went  pouring  forward  with  impetuous  speed, 
And  swiftly  forming  in  the  ranks  of  war. 
And  the  deep  thunder,  peal  on  peal  afar ; 
And  near,  the  beat  of  the  alarming  drum 
Roused  up  the  soldier  ere  the  morning  star ;  , 

While  thronged  the  citizens  with  terror  dumb 

*  Plaiutive. 


3^  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  25. 

Or  whispering  with  white  lips — "The  foe!  They 
come  !  they  come  !" 

5  *And  Ardennes  waves  above  them  her  green ,  leaves, 
Dewy  with  nature's  tear-drops,  as  they  pass, 
Grieving,  if  aught  inanimate  e'er  grieves. 

Over  the  unreturning  brave, — alas  ! 
Ere  evening  to  be  trodden  like  the  grass. 
Which  now  beneath  them,  but  above  shall  grow 
In  its  next  verdue,  when  this  fiery  mass 
Of  living  valour,  rolling  on  the  foe. 
And  burning  with  high  hope,  shall   moulder  cold  and 
low. 

6  Last  noon  beheld  them  full  of  lusty  life. 
Last  eve  in  beauty's  circle  proudly  gay. 

The  midnight  brought  the  signal-sound  of  strife. 
The  morn,  the  marshaUing  in  arms, — the  day. 
Battle's  magnificently-stern  array  ! 
The  thunder-clouds  close  o'er  it,  which  when  rent, 
The  earth  is  covered  tljick  with  other  clay. 
Which  her  own  clay  shall  cover,  heaped  and  pent. 
Rider  and    horse, — friend,  foe, — in   one   red    burial 
blent !  Byron. 

5.         JSTegroh  Complaint, 

1  Forced  from  home  and  all  its  pleasures, 

Afric's  coast  I  left  forlorn  ; 
To  increase  a  stranger's  treasures, 

O'er  the  raging  billows  borne. 
Men  from  England  bought  and  sold  me, 

Paid  my  price  in  paltry  gold  ; 
But  though  slave  they  have  enrolled  me, 

Minds  are  never  to  be  sold. 

2  Still  in  thought  as  free  as  ever, 

What  are  England's  rights,  I  fesk. 
Me  from  my  delights  to  sever. 
Me  to  torture,  me  to  task  ? 


•  Pltiotive. 


Ex.  25.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  239 

Fleecy  locks  and  black  complexion 
Cannot  forfeit  Nature's  claim  ; 
Skins  may  differ,  but  affection 
Dwells  in  white  and  black  the  same. 

3  Why  did  all-creating  nature 

Make  the  plant  for  which  we  toil  ? 
Sighs  must  fan  it,  tears  must  water, 

Sweat  of  ours  must  dress  the  soil. 
Think,  ye  masters  iron-hearted. 

Lolling  at  your  jovial  boards  ; 
Think  how  many  backs  have  smarted 
For  the  sweets  your  cane  affords. 

4  (°)Is  there,  as  ye  sometimes  tell  us, 

Is  there  one  who  reigns  on  high  ? 
Has  he  bid  you  buy  and  sell  us. 

Speaking  from  his  throne  the  sky  ? 
Ask  him,  if  your  knotted  scourges, 

Matches,  blood-extorting  screws, 
Are  the  means  that  duty  urges 

Agents  of  his  will  to  use  ? 

5  {^Q)Hark  !  he  answers, — wild  tornadoes. 

Strewing  yonder  sea  with  wrecks  ; 
Wasting  towns,  plantations,  meadows, 

Are  the  voice  with  which  he  speaks- 
He,  forseeing  what  vexations 

Afric's  sons  should  undergo. 
Fixed  their  tyrants'  habitation 

Where  his  whirlwinds  answer — no. 

6  By  our  blood  in  Afric  wasted. 

Ere  our  necks  received  the  chain  ; 
By  the  miseries  that  we  tasted, 

Crossing  in  your  barks  the  main  ; 
By  our  sufferings  since  ye  brought  us 

To  the  man-degrading  mart ; 
All,  sustained  by  patience,  taught  us 

Only  by  a  broken  heart. 


240  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  25. 

7  Deem  our  nation  brntes  no  longer, 
Till  some  reason  ye  shall  find 
Worthier  of  regard,  and  stronger 
Than  the  cdlovr  of  our  kind. 
Slaves  ofgoldy  whose  sordid  dealings 

Tarnish  all  your  boasted  powers. 
Prove  that  you  have  human  feelings, 
Ere  you  proudly  question  durs  ! 

Cowper. 

6.  Marco  Bozzaris,  The  Epaminondas  of  Modern 
Greece. 

[He  fell  in  an  attack  upon  the  Turkish  Camp,  at  Laspi,  the  site 
of  the  ancient  Plataea,  Aug^ust  20,  1823,  and  expired  in  the  mo- 
ment of  victory.  His  last  words  were — •*  To  die  for  liberty  is  a 
pleasure,  and  not  a  pain."] 

1  At  midnight,  in  his  guarded  tent, 

The  Turk  was  dreaming  of  the  hour, 
When  Greece,  her  knee  in  suppliance  bent, 

Should  tremble  at  his  power  ; 
In  dreams,  through  camp  and  court,  he  bore 
The  trophies  of  a  conqueror  ; 

In  dreams  his  song  of  triumph  heard  ; 
Then  wore  his  monarch's  signet  ring, — 
Then  pressed  that  monarch's  throne, — a  king  ; 
As  wild  his  thoughts,  and  gay  of  wing. 

As  Eden's  garden  bird. 

2  An  hour  passed  on — the  Turk  awoke  ; 

That  bright  dream  was  his  last ; 
He  woke — to  hear  his  sentry's  shriek, 

1^)  ''  To  arms !  they  come  !  the  Greek  !  the  Greek  !" 
le  woke — to  die  midst  flame  and  smoke, 
And  shout,  and  groan,  and  sabre  stroke, 
And  death  shots  falling  thick  and  fast 
As  lightnings  from  the  mountain  cloud  ; 
And  heard,  with  voice  as  trumpet  loud, 
Bozzaris  cheer  his  band  ; 


Ex.  25.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  241 

(°^)  "Strike-^till  the  last  armed  foe  expires, 
Strike — for  your  altars  and  your  fires, 
Strike — for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires, 
God — and  your  native  land  !" 

3  They  fought — like  brave  men,  long  and  well, 

They  piled  that  ground  with  Moslem  slain, 
They  conquered — but  Bozzaris  fell, 

Bleeding  at  every  vein. 

His  few  surviving  comrades  saw 
His  smile,  when  rang  their  proud  hurrah. 

And  the  red  field  was  won  ; 
Then  saw  in  death  his  eyelids  close 
Calmly,  as  to  a  night's  repose. 

Like  flowers  at  set  of  sun. 

4  "^Come  to  the  bridal  chamber.  Death ! 

Come  to  the  mother,  when  she  feels, 
For  the  first  time,  her  first-born's  breath  ; — 

Come  when  the  blessed  seals 
Which  close  the  pestilence  are  broke. 
And  crowded  cities  wail  its  stroke ; 
Come  in  consumption's  ghastly  form, 
The  earthquake  shock,  the  ocean  storm  ; — 
Come  when  the  heart  beats  high  and  warm, 

With  banquet-song,  and  dance,  and  wine, 
And  thou  art  terrible  :  the  tear. 
The  groan,  the  knell,  the  pall,  the  bier. 
And  all  we  know,  or  dream,  or  fear 

Of  agony,  are  thine. 

5  But  to  the  hero,  when  his  sword 

Has  won  the  battle  for  the  free. 
Thy  voice  sounds  like  a  prophet's  word, 
And  in  its  hollow  tones  are  heard 

The  thanks  of  millions  yet  to  be. 
Bozzaris  !  with  the  storied  brave 


•  Plaintive. 

21 


843  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  25* 

Greece  nurtured  in  her  glory's  lime, 
Rest  thee — there  is  no  prouder  grave, 

Even  in  her  own  proud  cliipe. 
We  tell  thy  doom  without  a  sigh  ; 
For  thou  art  Freedom's  now,  and  Fame's — 
One  of  the  few,  the  immortal  names, 

That  were  not  born  to  die.  Halleck. 


7.  (o)Now  when  fair  morn  orient  in  Heaven  ap- 
peared. 
Up  rose  the  victor  Angels,  and  to  arms 
The  matin  trumpet  sung  :  in  arms  they  stood 
Of  golden  panoply,  refulgent  host, 
5  Soon  banded  ;  others  from  the  dawning  hills 

Look'd  round,  and  scouts  each  coast  light  armed  scour, 
Each  quarter,  to  descry  the  distant  foe. 
Where  lodg'd,  or  whither  fled,  or  if  for  fight. 
In  motion  or  in  halt :  him  soon  they  met 

10  Under  spread  ensigns  moving  nigh,  in  slow 
But  firm  battalion  ;  back  with  speediest  sail 
Zophiel,  of  Cherubim  the  swiftest  wing. 
Came  fly'ing,  and  in  mid  air  aloud  thus  cry'd. 
(®°)  *  Arm,  Warriors,  arm /or^;g-Af — the  foe  at  hand, 

15  Whom  fled  we  thought,  will  save  us  long  pursuit 
This  day ;  fear  not  his  flight :  so  thick  a  cloud 
He  comes,  and  settled  in  his  face  I  see 
Sad  resolution  and  secure ;  let  each 
His  adamantine  coat  gird  well, — and  each 

20  Fit  well  his  helm, — gripe  fast  his  orbid  shield. 
Borne  ev'n  or  high  ;  for  this  day  will  pour  down. 
If  I  conjecture  ought,  no  drizzling  shower. 
But  rattling  storm  of  arrows  barb'd  with  fire.' 
(j,)  So  warn'd  he  them,  aware  themselves,  and  soon 

25  In  order,  quit  of  all  impediment ; 

Instant,  without  disturb,  they  took  alarm. 
And  onward  move,  embattled :  when  behold. 
Not  distant  far,  with  heavy  pace  the  foe 


Ex.  26.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION. 


243 


Approaching,  gross  and  huge,  in  hollow  cube, 

30  Training  his  devilish  enginry,  impal'd 

On  every  side  with  shadowing  squadrons  deep, 
To  hide  the  fraud.     At  interview  both  stood 
A  while ;  but  suddenly  at  head  appear'd 
Satan,  and  thus  was  heard  commanding  loud. 

35  ^oo^  I  Vanguard,  to  right  and  left  the  front  unfold  ; 
That  all  may  see  who  hate  us,  how  we  seek 
Peace  and  composure,  and  with  open  breast 
Stand  ready  to  receive  them,  if  they  like 
Our  overture,  and  turn  not  back  perverse.' 

Milton. 

26]  Page  125.  Expression. 

The  Exercises  arranged  in  this  class  belong  to  the  general  head 
of  the  pathetic  and  delicate.  As  this  has  been  partly  anticipated 
under  another  head  of  the  Exercises,  and  as  the  manner  of  execu- 
tion in  the  case  depends  wholly  on  emotion,  there  can  be  little  as- 
sistance rendered  by  a  notation.  Before  reading  the  pieces  in  this 
class,  the  remarks  of  the  Analysis  p.  125 — 128  should  be  review- 
ed ;  and  the  mind  should  be  prepared  to  feel  the  spirit  of  each 
piece,  by  entering  fully  into  the  circumstances  of  the  case. 

1 .  Genesis  xliv.  JudaK's  speech  to  Joseph. 

18  *Then  Judah  came  near  unto  him,  and  said,  O 
my  lord,  let  thy  servant,  I  pray  thee,  speak  a  word  in  my 
lord's  ears,  and  let  not  thine  anger  burn  against  thy  ser- 
vant:  for  thou  art  even  as  Pharaoh. — 19  My  lord  asked 
his  servants,  saying.  Have  ye  a  father,  or  a  brother.'* — 
20  And  we  said  unto  my  lord.  We  have  a  father,  an  old 
man,  and  a  child  of  his  old  age,  a  little  one  :  and  his  broth- 
er is  dead,  and  he  alone  is  left  of  his  mother,  and  his  fa- 
ther loveth  him. — 21  And  thou  saidst  unto  thy  servants, 
Bring  him  down  unto  me,  that  I  may  set  mine  eyes  upon 
him. — 22  And  we   said   unto  my  lord,  The  lad  cannot 

*  The  reader  is  again  desired  to  bear  in  mind  that  in  extracts 
from  the  Bible,  as  well  as  other  books,  Italic  words  denote  empha- 
sis. 


244  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  26. 

leave  his /a/A«r:  for  if  he  should  leave  his  father,  his 
father  would  die. — 23  And  thou  saidst  unto  thy  servants, 
Except  your  youngest  brother  come  down  wiilx  you,  ye 
shall  see  my  face  no  more. — ^24  And  it  came  to  pass, 
when  we  came  up  unto  thy  servant  my  father,  we  told 
him  the  words  of  my  lord. — 2b  And  our  father  said,  Go 
again,  and  buy  us  a  little  food. — ^26  And  we  said,  We 
cannot  go  down  :  if  our  youngest  brother  be  with  us,  then 
will  we  go  down  ;  for  we  may  not  see  the  man's  face,  ex- 
cept our  youngest  brother  be  with  us. — 27  And  thy  ser- 
vant my  father  said  unto  us.  Ye  know  that  my  wife  bear 
me  two  sons  : — 28  And  the  one  went  out  from  me,  and 
I  said,  Surely  he  is  torn  in  pieces ;  and  I  saw  him  not 
since  : — 29  And  if  ye  take  this  also  from  me,  and  mis- 
chief befall  him,  ye  shall  bring  down  my  grey  hairs  with 
sorrow  to  the  grave. — 30  Now  therefore  when  I  come 
to  thy  servant  my  father,  and  the  lad  be  not  with  us  ; 
(seeing  that  his  life  is  bound  up  in  the  lad^s  hfe  ;) — 31  It 
shall  come  to  pass,  when  he  seeth  that  the  lad  is  not  with 
us,  that  he  will  die :  and  thy  servants  shall  bring  down 
the  grey  hairs  of  thy  servant  our  father  with  sorrow  to  the 
grave. — 32  For  thy  servant  became  surety  for  the  lad 
unto  my  father,  saying.  If  I  bring  him  not  unto  thee,  then 
I  shall  bear  the  blame  to  my  father  forever. — 33  Now 
therefore,  I  pray  thee,  let  thy  servant  abide  instead  o(  the 
lad,  a  bond-man  to  my  lord  ;  and  let  the  lad  go  up  with 
his  brethren. — 34  For  how  shall  I  go  up  to  my  father, 
and  the  lad  be  not  with  me  ?  lest  perad venture  I  see  the 
evil  that  shall  come  on  my  father. 

2.     Genesis  xlv.  Joseph  disclosing  himself. 

!•  Then  Joseph  could  not  refrain  himself  before  all 
them  that  stood  by  him  ;  and  he  cried,  Cause  every  man 
to  go  out  from  me.  And  there  stood  no  man  with  him 
while  Joseph  made  himself  known  unto  his  brethren. — 2 
And  he  wept  aloud :  and  the  Egyptians  and  the  house  of 
Pharaoh  heard. — 3  And  Joseph  said  unto  his  brethren, 


Ex.  26.]  EXERCISES  ON   MODULATION.  24S 

I  am  Joseph  ;  doth  my  father  yet  live  ?  And  his  breth- 
ren could  not  answer  him  ;  for  they  were  troubled  at  his 
presence. — 4  And  Joseph  said  unto  his  brethren,  Come 
near  to  me,  I  pray  you  :  and  they  came  near.  And  he 
said,  I  am  Joseph  your  brother^  whom  ye  sold  into  Egypt. 
5  Now  therefore  be  not  grieved,  nor  angry  with  your- 
selves, that  ye  sold  me  hither  :  for  God  did  send  me  be- 
fore you  to  preserve  Hfe.  6  For  these  two  years  hath  the 
famine  been  in  the  land  :  and  yet  there  are  five  years,  in 
the  which  there  shall  neither  be  earing  nor  harvest.  7 
And  God  sent  me  before  you,  to  preserve  you  a  posterity 
in  the  earth,  and  to  save  your  lives  by  a  great  deliverance. 

8  So  now  it  was  not  you  that  sent  me  hither,  but  God : 
and  he  hath  made  me  a  father  to  Pharaoh,  and  lord  of 
all  his  house,  and  a  ruler  throughout  all  the  land  of  Egypt. 

9  Haste  ye,  and  go  up  to  my  father,  and  say  unto  him, 
Thus  saith  thy  son  Joseph,  God  hath  made  me  lord  of  all 
Egypt;  come  down  unto  me,  tarry  not:  10  And  thou 
shalt  dwell  in  the  land  Goshen,  and  thou  shalt  be  near 
unto  me,  thou,  and  thy  children,  and  thy  children's  child- 
ren, and  thy  flocks,  and  thy  herds,  and  all  that  thou  hast: 

II  And  there  will  I  nourish  thee,  (for  yet  there  are  ^\e 
years  of  famine,)  lest  thou,  and  thy  household,  and  all 
that  thou  hast  come  to  poverty.  12  And  behold,  your 
eyes  see^  and  the  eyes  of  my  brother  Benjamin,  that  it  is 
my  mouth  that  speaketh  unto  you.  13  And  ye  shall  tell 
my  father  of  all  my  glory  in  Egypt,  and  of  all  that  ye 
have  seen  ;  and  ye  shall  haste,  and  bring  down  my  father 
hither.  14  And  he  fell  upon  his  brother  Benjamin's 
neck,  and  wept ;  and  Benjamin  wept  upon  his  neck.  15 
Moreover,  he  kissed  all  his  brethren,  and  wept  upon 
them  :  and  after  that  his  brethren  talked  with  him, 

25  And  they  went  up  out  of  Egyp/,  and  came  into 
the  land  of  Canaan  unto  Jacob  their  father,  26  And  told 
him,  saying,  Joseph  is  yet  alive,  and  he  is^oi'erwor  over 
all  the  land  of  Egypt.  And  Jacob's  h^wxi  fainted^  for  he 
believed  them  not.  27  And  they  told  him  all  the  words 
of  Joseph,  which  he  had  said  unto  them  :  and  when  he 
21* 


246  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  £Ex.  26. 

saw  the  waggons  which  Joseph  had  sent  to  carry  him,  the 
spirit  of  Jacob  their  father  revived  :  28  And  Israel  said, 
It  is  enough;  Joseph  njy  son  is  yet  alive  :  I  will  go  and 
see  him  before  1  die. 

3.  3%e  death  of  a  friend. 

1  I  fain  would  sing : — but  ah  !  I  strive  in  vain. 
Sighs  from  a  breaking  heart  my  voice  confound, 
With  trembling  step,  to  join  yon  weeping  train, 

I  haste,  where  gleams  funereal  glare  around. 
And,  mix'd  with  shrieks  of  wo,  the  knells  of  death  rer 
sound. 

2  Adieu,  ye  lays,  that  Fancy's  flowers  adorn, 
The  soft  amusement  of  the  vacant  mind  ! 
He  sleeps  in  dust,  and  all  the  Muses  mourn, 
He,  whom  each  virtue  fired,  each  grace  refined, 
Friend,  teacher,  pattern,  darling  of  mankind ! 
He  sleeps  in  dust.     Ah,  how  shall  I  pursue 

My  theme  !  To  heart-consuming  grief  resign'd, 
Here  on  his  recent  grave  1  fix  my  view. 
And  pour  my  bitter  tears.  Ye  flowery  lays,  adieu  I 

3  Art  thou,  my  Gregoky,  forever  fled  ! 
And  ami  left  to  unavailing  wo  ! 

When  fortune's  storms  assail  this  weary  head. 
Where  cares  long  since  have  shed  untimely  snow, 
Ah,  now  for  comfort  whither  shall  I  go  ! 
No  more  thy  soothing  voice  my  anguish  cheers : 
Thy  placid  eyes  with  smiles  no  longer  glow, 
My  hopes  to  cherish,  and  allay  my  fears. 
'Tis  meet  that  I  should  mourn  :  flow  forth  afresh  my  tear§. 

Bealtie. 

4.  The  Sabbath. 

How  still  the  morning  of  the  hallowed  day! 
Mute  is  the  voice  of  rural  labour,  hush'd 


Ex.  26.]  EXERCISES  ON   MODULATION.  247 

The  ploughboy's  whistle,  and  the  milkmaid's  song. 
The  scythe  lies  glittering  in  the  dewy  wreath 
5  Of  tedded  grass,  mingled  with  fading  flowers, 
That  yester  morn  bloom'd  waving  in  the  breeze ; 
The  faintest  sounds  attract  the  ear, — the  hum 
Of  early  bee,  the  trickling  of  the  dew. 
The  distant  bleating,  midway  up  the  hill. 

10  Calmness  seems  thron'd  on  yon  unmoving  cloud. 
To  him  who  wanders  o'er  the  upland  leas. 
The  blackbird's  note  comes  mellower  from  the  dale, 
And  sweeter  from  the  sky  the  gladsome  lark 
Warbles  his  heav'n-tun'd  song  ;  the  lulling  brook 

15  Murmurs   more  gently  down  the  deep-sunk  glen  ; 
While  from  yon  lowly  roof,  whose  curling  smoke 
O'er  mounts  the  mist,  is  heard,  at  intervals. 
The  voice  of  psalms,  the  simple  song  of  praise. 
With  dove-like  wings  Peace  o'er  yon  village  broods  -: 

20  The  dizzying  mill-wheel  rests ;  the  anvil's  din 
Has  ceas'd  ;  all,  all  around  is  quietness. 
Less  fearful  on  this  day,  the  limping  hare 
Stops,  and  looks  back,  and  stops,  and  looks  on  man, 
Her  deadliest  foe  ; — the  toil-worn  horse  set  free, 

25  Unheedful  of  the  pasture,  roams  at  large. 
And,  as  his  stiff  unwieldly  bulk  he  rolls, 
His  iron-arm'd  hoofs  gleam  in  the  morning  ray. 

But,  chiefly,  Man  the  day  of  rest  enjoys. 
Hail,  Sabbath  !  thee  I  hail,  the  poor  man's  day. 

30  On  other  days,  the  man  of  toil  is  doom'd 
To  eat  his  joyless  bread,  lonely,  the  ground 
Both  seat  and  board, — screen'd  from  the  winter's  cold 
And  summer's  heat,  by  neighbouring  hedge  or  tree  ; 
But  on  this  day,  embosom'd  in  his  home, 

35  He  shares  the  frugal  meal  with  those  he  loves ; 
With  those  he  loves  he  shares  the  heartfeh  joy 
Of  giving  thanks  to  God, — not  thanks  of  form, 
A  word  and  a  grimace,  but  reverently. 
With  covered  face  and  upward  earnest  eye. 


248  EXERCISES  ON  MODU^^ATION.  [Ex.  26. 

40       Hail,  Sabbath  !  thee  1  hail,  the  poor  man's  day. 
The  pale  mechanic  now  has  leave  to  breathe 
The  morning  air,  pure  from  the  city's  smoke, 
As  wandering  slowly  up  the  river's  bank, 
He  meditates  on  him  whose  power  he  marks 

45  In  each  green  tree  that  proudly  spreads  the  bough, 
And  in  the  tiny  dew-bent  flowers  that  bloom 
Around  the  roots ;  and  while  he  thus  surveys 
With  elevated  joy  each  rural  charm, 
He  hopes,  (yet  fears  presumption  in  the  hope,) 

50  That  heaven  may  be  one  Sabbath  without  end. 
But  now  his  steps  a  welcome  sound  recalls : 
Solemn,  the  knell  from  yonder  ancient  pile 
Fills  all  the  air,  inspiring  joyful  awe  ; 
The  throng  moves  slowly  o'er  the  tomb-pav'd  ground  : 

55  The  aged  man,  the  bowed  down,  the  blind 

Led  by  the  thoughtless  boy,  and  he  who  breathes 
With  pain,  and  eyes  the  new-made  grave,  well-pleas'd; 
These,  mingled  with  the  young,  the  gay,  approach 
The  house  of  God  :  these,  spite  of  all  their  ills,  . 

60  A  glow  of  gladness  prove  :  with  silent  praise 
They  enter  in  :  a  placid  stillness  reigns  ; 
Until  the  man  of  God,  worthy  the  name. 
Opens  the  book,  and,  with  impressive  voice, 
The  weekly  portion  reads. 

Grahamc. 

5.     The  Burial  of  Sir  John  Moore. 

1  Not  a  drum  was  heard,  not  a  funeral  note, 

As  his  corse  to  the  ramparts  we  hurried  ; 
Not  a  soldier  discharged  his  farewell  shot 
O'er  the  grave  where  our  Hero  was  buried. 

2  We  buried  him  darkly  ;  at  dead  of  night, 

The  sods  with  our  bayonets  turning, 
By  the  struggling  moon-beams'  misty  light, 
And  the  lantern  dimly  burning. 


NIVT  T 

Ex.  26.]  fiXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.     \v    /V  .     249 


fe 


3  No  useless  coffin  enclosed  his  breast, 

Nor  in  sheet  nor  in  shroud  we  wound  him  ; 
But  he  lay — like  a  warrior  taking  his  rest — 
With  his  martial  cloak  around  him  ! 

-4  Few  and  short  were  the  prayers  we  said, 
And  we  spoke  not  a  word  of  sorrow  ; 
But  we  steadfastly  gazed  on  the  face  of  the  dead. 
And  we  bitterly  thought  of  the  morrow — 

5  We  thought — as  we  hollowed  his  narrow  bed. 

And  smoothed  down  his  lonely  pillow — 
How  the  foe  and  the  stranger  would  tread  o'er  his  head. 
And  we  far  away  on  the  billow  ! 

6  "  Lightly  they'll  talk  of  the  spirit  that's  gone, 

And  o'er  his  cold  ashes  upbraid  him  ; 
But  nothing  he'll  reck,  if  they  let  him  sleep  on 
In  the  grave  where  a  Briton  has  laid  him." 

7  But  half  of  our  heavy  task  was  done, 

When  the  clock  toU'd  the  hour  for  retiring, 
And  we  heard  the  distant  and  random  gun, 
That  the  foe  was  suddenly  firing — 

8  Slowly  and  sadly  we  laid  him  down, 

From  the  field  of  his  fame  fresh  and  gory  ! 
We  carved  not  a  line,  we  raised  not  a  stone. 
But  we  left  him — alone  with  his  glory  ! 

6.    Eve  lamenting  the  loss  of  Paradise. 

*'  O  unexpected  stroke,  worse  than  of  Death  ! 
Must  1  thus  leave  thee,  Paradise  ?  thus  leave 
Thee,  native  soil,  these  happy  walks  and  shades, 
Fit  haunt  of  Gods?  where  I  had  hope  to  spend, 
5     Quiet  though  sad,  the  respite  of  that  day 
That  must  be  mortal  to  us  both.     O  flowers, 
That  never  will  in  other  climate  grow. 
My  early  visitation,  and  my  last 
At  ev'n,  which  I  bred  up  with  tender  hand 


550  fiXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  26. 

10  From  the  first  opening  bud,  and  gave  ye  names, 
Who  now  shall  rear  ye  to  the  sun,  or  rank 
Your  tribes,  and  water  from  the  ambrosial  fount  ? 
Thee  lastly,  nuptial  bowV,  by  me  adorn'd 
With  what  to  sight  or  smell  was  sweet,  from  thee 

15  How  shall  1  part,  and  whither  wander  down 
Into  a  lower  world,  to  this  obscure 
And  wild  ?  how  shall  we  breathe  in  other  air 
Less  pure,  accustom'd  to  immortal  fruits  .'*" 

7.     Soliloquy  of  Hamlefs  Uncle. 

(  Q  )0h  !  my  offence  is  rank,  it  smells  to  heaven ; 

It  hath  the  primal,  eldest  curse  upon't, 

A  brother's  murder  ! — Pray  I  cannot, 

Though  inclination  be  as  sharp  as  'twill, 
5  My  stronger  guilt  defeats  my  strong  intent  : 

And  like  a  man  to  double  business  bound, 

I  stand  in  pause  where  I  shall  first  begin, 

And  both  neglect.  (°)  What  if  this  cursed  hand 

Were  thicker  than  itself  with  brother's  blood  ;        j^H  | 
10  Is  there  not  rain  enough  in  the  sweet  heavens 

To  wash  it  white  as  snow  ?  Whereto  serves  mercy, 

But  to  confront  the  visage  of  offence  ? 

And  what's  in  prayer,  but  this  two -fold  force, 

To  be  forestalled,  ere  we  come  to  fall, 
15  Or  pardon'd  being  down  ? — Then  I'll  look  Up  ; 

My  fault  is  past. — But  oh,  what  form  of  prayer 

Can  serve  my  turn  ?  *'  Forgive  me  my  foul  murder  !" 

That  cannot  be  ;  since  I  am  still  possess'd 

Of  those  effects  for  which  I  did  the  murder, 
20  My  crown,  mine  own  ambition,  and  my  queen. 

May  one  be  pardon'd,  and  retain  the  offence  f 

In  the  corrupted  currents  of  this  world. 

Offence's  gilded  hand  may  shove  by  justice  ; 

And  oft  'tis  seen,  the  wicked  prize  itself 
25  Buys  out  the  law :  but  'tis  not  so  above : 

There^  is  no  shuffling ;  there^  the  action  lies 


Ex.  27.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  251 


In  his  true  nature  ;  and  we  ourselves  compeU'd, 
Even  to  the  teeth  and  forehead  of  our  fauhs, 
To  give  in  evidence. — What  then  ? — what  rests  ? 

30  Try  what  repentance  can  :  what  can  it  not? 
Yet  what  can  it,  when  one  cannot  repent  ? 
(o)0  wretched  state  !  oh  bosom,  black  as  death  ! 
Oh  limed  soul ;  that,  struggling  to  be  free, 
Art  more  engag'd  !  Help,  angels  !  make  assay  ! 

35  Bow,  stubborn  knees  ;  and,  heart,  with  strings  of  steel, 
Be  soft  as  sinews  of  the  new-born  babe  ! 
All  may  be  well. 

27]  Page  128.         Representation. 

1.  Matt.  xiv. — 22  And  straightway  Jesus  constrain- 
ed his  disciples  to  get  into  a  ship,  and  to  go  before  him 
unto  the  other  side,  while  he  sent  the  multitudes  away. 
23  And  when  he  had  sent  the  multitudes  away,  he  went 
up  into  a  mountain  apart  to  pray  :  and  when  the  evening 
was  come,  he  was  there  alone.  24  But  the  ship  was 
now  in  the  midst  of  the  sea,  tossed  with  waves :  for  the 
wind  was  contrary.  25  And  in  the  fourth  watch  of  the 
night  Jesus  went  unto  them,  walking  on  the  sea.  26  And 
when  the  disciples  saw  him  walking  on  the  sea,  they  were 
troubled,  saying.  It  is  a  spirit ;  and  they  cried  out  for 
fear.  27  But  straightway  Jesus  spake  unto  them,  say- 
ing, Be  of  good  cheer;  it  is  '7;  be  noi  afraid.  28  And 
Peter  answered  him  and  said,  Lord,  if  it  be  thou,  bid  me 
come  unto  thee  on  the  water.  29  And  he  said,  Come. 
And  when  Peter  was  come  down  out  of  the  ship,  he 
walked  on  the  water,  to  go  to  Jesus.  30  But  when  he 
saw  the  wind  boisterous,  he  was  afraid  ;  and  beginning 
to  sink,  he  cried,  saying,  luovd,  save  me.  31  And  imme- 
diately Jesus  stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  caught  him, 
and  said  unto  him,  O  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst 
thou  doubt  ?  32  And  when  they  were  come  into  the 
ship,  the  wind  ceased.  33  Then  they  that  were  in  the 
ship  came  and  worshipped  him,  saying,  Of  a  truth  thou 
art  the  Son  of  God. 


252  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  27. 

2.  Matt.  xvii. — 14  And  when  they  were  come  to 
the  multitude,  there  came  to  him  a  certain  man  kneeling 
down  to  him,  and  saying,  15  Lord,  have  mercy  on  my 
son  ;  for  he  is  lunatic,  and  sore  vexed,  for  oft-times 
he  fallelh  into  the  ^rc,  and  oft  into  the  water.  16  And 
I  brought  him  to  thy  disciples,  and  they  could  not  cure 
him.  17  Then  Jesus  answered  and  said,  O  faithless 
and  perverse  generation,  how  long  shall  1  be  with  you  ? 
how  long  shall  1  suffer  you  ?  Bring  him  hither  to  mt. 
18  And  Jesus  rebuked  the  devil,  and  he  departed  out  of 
him  :  and  the  child  was  cured  from  that  very  hour.  19 
Then  came  the  disciples  to  Jesus  apart,  and  said.  Why 
could  not  w^  cast  him  out  ?  20  And  Jesus  said  unto 
them.  Because  of  your  unbelief:  for  verily  1  say  unto 
you,  If  ye  have  faith  as  a  grain  of  mustard-seed,  ye  shall 
say  unto  this  mduntain,  Remove  hence  to  yonder  place  ; 
and  it  shall  remove  ;  and  nothing  shall  be  impossible  un- 
to you. 

3.  Matt,   xviii. — 23  Therefore  is  the  kingdom   of 
heaven  likened  unto  a  certain  king,  which  would  lake  ac- 
count of  his  servants.     24  And  when  he  had   begun  to 
reckon,  one  was  brought  unto  him  which  owed  him  ten 
thousand  talents.    25  But  forasmuch   as  he  ^had  not  to 
pay,  his  lord  commanded  him  to  be  sold,  and  his  wife 
and  children,  and  all  that  he  had,  and   payment  to  be 
made.    26  The  servant  therefore    fell   down  and   wor- 
shipped him,  saying.  Lord,  have  patience  with  me,  and  I 
will  pay  thee  all.    27  Then  the  lord  of  that  servant  was 
moved  with  compassion,  and  loosed  him,  and  forgave  hina' 
the  debt.    28  But  the  same  servant  went  out,  and  foun(^ 
one  of  his  fellow-servants,  which  owed  him   a  hundrei 
pence ;  and  he  laid  hands  on  him,  and  took  him  by  th( 
throat,  saying,  Pdy  me  that  thou   owest.    29   Andhii 
fellow-servant  fell  down  at  his  feet,  and  besought  him, 
saying,  Have  patience  with  me,  and  I  will  pay  the   alL 
30  And  he  would  not :  but  went  and  cast  him  into  pris- 
on, till  he  should   pay  the  debt.    31     So  when  his  fel- 


Ex.  27.]  EXERCISES  ON    MODULATION.  253 

low-servants  saw  what  was  done,  they  were  very  sorry, 
and  came  and  told  unto  their  lord  all  that  was  done. 
32  Then  his  lord,  after  that  he  had  called  him,  said  unto 
him,  O  thou  wicked  servant,  I  forgave  thee  all  that  debt, 
because  thou  desirest  me  :  33  Shouldst  not  thou  also 
have  had  compassion  on  thy  fellow-servant,  even  as  I  had 
pity  on  thee  f 

4.  Matt.  xx. — 25  But  Jesus  called  them  unto  him, 
and  said,  Ye  know  that  the  princes  of  the  Gentiles  exer- 
cise dominion  over  them,  and  they  that  are  great  exer- 
cise authority  upon  them.  26  But  it  shall  not  be  so 
among  you  :  but  whosoever  will  be  great  among  you,  let 
him  be  your  minister  ;  27  And  whosoever  will  be  chief 
among  you,  let  him  be  your  servant:  28  Even  as  the 
Son  of  man  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  min- 
ister, and  to  give  his  life  a  ransom  for  many.  29  And  as 
they  departed  from  Jericho,  a  great  multitude  followed 
him, 

30  And  behold,  two  blind  men  silting  by  the  way-side, 
when  they  heard  that  Jtsus  passed  by,  they  cried  out, 
saying,  Have  mercy  on  us,  O  Lord,  thou  son  of  David. 
31  And  the  multitude  rebuked  them,  because  they  should 
hold  their  peace  :  but  they  cried  the  more,  saying,  Have 
m^rcy  on  us,  O  Lord,  thou  son  of  David.  And  Jesus 
stood  still,  and  called  them,  and  said.  What  will  ye  that 
I  shall  db  unto  you  ?  33  They  say  unto  him.  Lord,  that 
our  eyes  may  be  opened.  34  So  Jesus  had  compassioQ 
on  them,  and  touched  their  eyes :  and  immediately  their 
eyes  received  sight,  and  they  followed  him. 

5.  Matt.  xxi. — 23  And  when  he  was  come  into  the 
temple,  the  chief  priests  and  the  elders  of  the  people  came 
unto  him  as  he  was  teaching,  and  said.  By  what  authority 
doest  thou  these  things  ?  and  who  gave  thee  this  authori- 
ity  ?  24  And  Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  them,  1  also 
will  ask  you  one  thing,  which  if  ye  tell  me,  I  in  like  wise 
will  tell  you  by  what  authority  I  do  these  things.    25  The 

22 


254  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  27. 

baptism  of  John,  whence  was  it  ?  fronn  heaven,  or  of 
men  ?  And  they  reasoned  with  themselves,  saying,  If 
we  shall  say.  From  heaven  ;  he  will  say  unto  us,  Why  did 
ye  not  then  believe  him  ?  26  But  if  we  shall  say,  Of 
me  1 ;  we  fear  the  people  :  for  all  hold  John  as  a  prophet. 
27  And  they  answered  Jesus,  and  said,  We  cannot  tell. 
And  he  said  unto  them.  Neither  tell  I  you  by  what  au- 
thority I  do  these  things. 

28  But  what  think  ye  ?  A  certain  man  had  two  sons  ; 
and  he  came  to  the  first,  and  said.  Son,  go  work  to-day 
in  my  vineyard.  29  He  answered  and  said,  I  will  not ; 
but  afterward  he  repented,  and  went.  30  And  he  came 
to  the  second,  and  said  likewise.  And  he  answered,  I  go, 
sir:  and  went  not.  31  Whether  of  them  twain  did  the 
will  of  his  father  ?  They  say  unto  him,  The^r^^  Jesus 
saith  unto  them.  Verily  I  say  unto  you.  That  the  publicans 
and  the  harlots  go  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before  you. 

6.  Matt.  xxv. — 31  When  the  son  of  man  shall  come 
in  his  glory,  and  all  the  holy  angels  with  him,  then  shall 
he  sit  upon  the  throne  of  his  glory  :  32  And  before  him 
shall  be  gathered  all  nations  :  and  he  shall  separate  them 
one  from  another,  as  a  shepherd  divideth  his  sheep  from 
the  goats  :  33  And  he  shall  set  the  sheep  on  his  right 
hand,  but  the  goats  on  the  left.  34  Then  shall  the  King 
say  unto  them  on  his  right  hand,  Cdme,  ye  blessed  of  my 
Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the 
foundation  of  the  world :  35  For  I  was  an  hungered, 
and  ye  gave  me  meat :  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me 
drink  :  I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in  :  36  Naked, 
and  ye  clothed  me  :  1  was  sick,  and  ye  vTsited  me :  I  was 
in  prison,  and  ye  came  unto  me.  37  Then  shall  the 
righteous  answer  him,  saying,  Lord,  wh^n  saw  we  thee 
an  hungered,  and  fed  thee  ?  or  thirsty,  and  gave  thee 
drink  ?  38  fVh^n  saw  we  thee  a  stranger,  and  took  thee 
in  ?  or  naked,  and  clothed  thee  ?  39  Or  wh^n  saw  we 
thee  sick,  or  in  prison,  and  came  unto  thee  ?  40  And 
the  King  shall  answer  and  say  unto  them,  Verily,  I  say 


Ex.  27.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  255 

unto  you,  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the 
least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  m^. 
41  Then  shall  he  say  also  unto  them  on  the  left  hand, 
Depctrt  from  me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepar- 
ed for  the  devil  and  his  angels  :  42  For  1  was  an  hun- 
gered, and  ye  gave  me  nd  meat  :  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye 
gave  me  no  drink:  43  1  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  look 
me  not  in  :  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  not :  sick,  and  in 
prison,  and  ye  visited  me  not.  44  Then  shall  they  also 
answer  him,  saying.  Lord  when  saw  we  thee  an  hunger- 
ed, or  athirst,  or  a  stranger,  or  naked,  or  sick,  or  in 
prison,  and  did  not  minister  unto  thee  f  45  Then  shall 
he  answer  them,  saying,  Verily,  I  say  unto  you,  Inasmuch 
as  ye  did  it  not  to  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  did  it  not 
to  mL  46  And  these  shall  go  away  into  everlasting 
punishment :   but  the  righteous  into  life  eternal. 

7.  Acts  xii. — 5  Peter  therefore  was  kept  in  prison : 
bu^  prayer  was  made  without  ceasing  of  the  church  unto 
God  for  him.  6  And  when  Herod  would  have  brought 
him  forth,  the  same  night  Peter  was  sleeping  between 
two  soldiers,  bound  with  two  chains  ;  and  the  keepers 
before  the  door  kept  the  prison.  7  And  behold,  the  an- 
gel of  the  Lord  came  upon  him,  and  a  light  shined  in  the 
prison ;  and  he  smote  Peter  on  the  side,  and  raised  him 
up,  saying,  Arise  up  quickly.  And  his  chains  fell  off 
from  his  hands.  8  And  the  angel  said  unto  him.  Gird 
thyself,  and  bind  on  thy  sandals  ;  and  so  he  did.  And  he 
saith  unto  him,  Cast  thy  garment  about  thee,  and  follow 
me.  9  And  he  went  out,  and  followed  him,  and  wist  not 
that  it  was  true  which  was  done  by  the  angel  ;  but  thought 
he  saw  a  vision.  10  When  they  were  past  the  first  and 
the  second  ward,  they  came  unto  the  iron  gate  that  lead- 
eth  unto  the  city  ;  which  opened  to  them  of  his  own  ac- 
cord :  and  they  went  out,  and  passed  on  through  one 
street:  and  forthwith  the  angel  departed  from  him.  11 
And  when  Peter  was  come  to  himself,  he  said.  Now  I 
know  of  a  surely,  that  the  Lord  hath  sent  his  dngel,  and 


eXKRCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  27. 


hath  delivered  me  out  of  the  hand  of  Herod,  and  from 
all  the  expectation  of  the  people  of  the  Jews.  12  And 
when  he  had  considered  the  thine,  he  came  to  the  house 
of  Mary  the  mother  of  John,  whose  surname  was  Mark  ; 
where  many  were  gathered  together,  praying.  13  And 
as  Peter  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  gate,  a  damsel  came 
to  hearken,  named  Rhoda.  14  And  when  she  knew 
Peter's  voice,  she  opened  not  the  gate  for  gladness,  hut 
ran  in,  and  told  how  Pe^er  stood  before  the  gate.  15  And 
they  said  unto  her.  Thou  art  mad.  But  she  constantly 
affirmed  that  it  was  even  so.  Then  said  they.  It  is  his 
angel.  16  But  Peter  continued  knocking.  And  when 
they  had  opened  the  door,  and  saw  him,  they  were  as- 
tonished. 17  But  he  beckoning  unto  them  with  the  hand 
to  hold  their  peace,  declared  unto  them  how  the  Lord 
had  brought  him  out  of  the  prison.  And  he  said,  Go 
shew"  these  things  unto  James,  and  to  the  brethren.  And 
he  departed,  and  went  into  another  place. 

8.  The  siege  of  Calais. 

Edward  III.  after  the  battle  of  Cressy,  laid  siege  to 
Calais.  He  had  fortified  his  camp  in  so  impregnable  a 
manner,  that  all  the  efforts  of  France  proved  ineffectual 
to  raise  the  siege,  or  throw  succours  into  the  city.  The 
command  devolving  upon  Eustace  St.  Pierre,  a  man  of 
mean  birth,  but  of  exalted  virtue,  he  offered  to  capitulate 
with  Edward,  provided  he  permitted  them  to  depart  with 
hfe  and  liberty.  Edward,  to  avoid  the  imputation  of  cru- 
elty, consented  to  spare  the  bulk  of  the  plebeians,  provid- 
ed they  delivered  up  to  him  six  of  their  principal  citizens 
with  hahers  about  tlieir  necks,  as  victims  of  due  atone- 
ment for  that  spirit  of  rebellion  with  which  they  had  in- 
flamed the  vulgar.  When  his  messenger.  Sir  Walter 
Mauny,  delivered  the  terms,  consternation  and  pale  dis- 
may were  impressed  on  every  countenance.  To  a  long 
and  dead  silence,  deep  sighs  and  groans  succeeded  ;  till 
Eustace  St.  Pierre,  getting  up  to  a  little  eminence,  thus 
addressed  the  assembly ; — "  My  friends,  we  are  brought 


Ex.  27.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  257 


to  great  straits  this  day.  We  must  either  yield  to  the 
terms  of  our  cruel  and  ensnaring  conqueror,  or  give  up  our 
tender  infants,  our  wives,  and  daughters,  to  the  bloody 
and  brutal  lusts  of  the  violating  soldiers.  Is  there  any 
expedient  left,  whereby  we  may  avoid  the  guilt  and  infa- 
my of  delivering  up  those  who  have  suffered  every  mise- 
ry with  you,  on  the  one  hand,  or  the  desolation  and  hor- 
ror of  a  sacked  city,  on  the  other  ?  There  is,  my  friends ; 
there  is  one  expedient  left !  a  gracious,  an  excellent,  a 
godlike  expedient  left!  Is  there  any  here  to  whom  vir- 
tue is  dearer  than  life  ?  Let  him  offer  himself  an  obla- 
tion for  the  safety  of  his  people  !  He  shall  not  fail  of  a 
blessed  approbation  from  that  Power  who  offered  up  his 
only  Son  for  the  salvation  of  mankind."  He  spoke  ; — 
but  a  universal  silence  ensued.  Each  man  looked  around 
for  the  example  of  that  virtue  and  magnanimity  which 
all  wished  to  approve  in  themselves,  though  they  wanted 
the  resolution.  At  length  St.  Pierre  resumed,  "  I  doubt 
not  but  there  are  many  here  as  ready,  nay,  more  zealous 
of  this  martyrdom  than  1  can  be  ;  though  the  station  to 
which  I  am  raised  by  the  captivity  of  Lord  Vienne,  im- 

rarls  a  right  to  be  the  first  in  giving  my  life  for  your  sakes. 
give  it  freely  ;  I  give  it  cheerfully.  Who  comes  next  .'^" 
— "Your  son,"  exclaimed  a  youth  not  yet  come  to  ma- 
turity.— "  Ah  I  my  child  !"  cried  St.  Pierre  ;  **  I  am  then 
twice  sacrificed. — But  no  ;  I  have  rather  begotten  thee 
a  second  time.  Thy  years  are  few,  but  full,  my  son. 
The  victim  of  virtue  has  reached  the  utmost  purpose  and 
goal  of  mortality.  Who  next,  my  friends  ?  This  is  the 
hour  of  heroes." — "  Your  kinsman,"  cried  John  de  Aire. 
— "Your  kinsman,"  cried  James  Wissant. — "Your  kins- 
man," cried  Peter  Wissant. — "  Ah  1"  exclaimed  Sir 
Walter  Mauny,  bursting  into  tears,  "  why  was  not  I  a  cit- 
izen of  Calais  .'^"  The  sixth  victim  was  still  wanting,  but 
was  quickly  supplied  by  lot,  from  numbers  who  were  now 
emulous  of  so  ennobling  an  example.  The  keys  of  the 
city  were  then  delivered  to  Sir  Walter.  He  took  the  six 
prisoners  into  his  custody  ;  then  ordered  the  gates  to  be 
22* 


258  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  27. 

opened,  and  gave  charge  to  bis  attendants  to  conduct  the 
remaining  citizens,  with  their  families,  through  the  camp 
of  the  English.  Before  they  defiarted,  Ixovvever,  they 
desired  permission  to  take  the  last  adieu  of  their  deliver- 
ers. What  a  parting  !  what  a  scene!  they  crowded  with 
iheir  wives  and  children  about  St.  Pierre  and  his  fellow- 
prisoners.  They  embraced  ;  they  clung  around  ;  they 
fell  prostrate  before  them  ;  they  groaned  ;  they  wept  aloud  ; 
and  the  joint  clamour  of  their  mourning  passed  the  gates 
of  the  city,  and  was  heard  throughout  the  English  camp. 

9.  Extract  of  a  sermon  o/' Robert  Robinson. 

Ool.  ii.  8. — Beware  lest  any  man  spoil  you  through  philosophy  and  vain  deceit. 

"  Beware  lest  any  man  spoil  you"  .  .  .  What !  is  it 
possible  to  spoil  a  Christian  ?  Indeed  it  is.  A  chris- 
tian may  spoil  himself,  as  a  beautiful  complexion  or  a 
proper  shape  may  be  rendered  disagreeable,  by  circum- 
stances of  dress  or  uncleanliness  ;  he  may  be  spoiled  by 
other  people,  just  as  a  straight  child  may  be  made  crook- 
ed, by  the  negligence  of  his  nurse  ;  or  exactly  as  a  sweet- 
tempered  youth  may  be  made  surly  or  insolent,  by  a  cru- 
el master.  "  Beware  lest  any  man  spoil  you."  Is  it 
possible  for  whole  societies  of  Christians  to  be  spoiled  i 
Certainly  it  is.  Nothing  is  easier.  They  may  spoil  one 
another,  as  in  a  family,  the  temper  of  one  single  person 
may  spoil  the  peace  of  the  whole ;  or  as  in  a  school,  one 
trifling  or  turbulent  master  may  spoil  the  education  and 
so  the  usefulness,  through  life,  of  two  or  three  hundred 
pupils,  successively  committed  to  his  injudicious  treat- 
ment. All  human  constitutions,  even  the  most  excellent, 
have  seeds  of  imperfections  in  them,  some  mixtures  of 
folly,  which  naturally  tend  to  weaken  and  destroy ;  and 
though  this  is  not  the  case  with  the  Christian  religion  it- 
self, which  is  the  wisdom  of  God  without  any  mixture  of 
human  folly;  yet  even  this  pure  religion,  like  the  pure 
juice  of  the  grape,  falling  into  the  hands  of  depraved 
men,  may  be  perverted,  and  whole  societies  may  embrace 
Christianity  thus  perverted. 


Ex.  28.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  259 

Beware  lest  any  man  spoil  you  through  .  .  .  what  f 
Idolatry,  blasphemy,  profligacy?  No.  Christians  are 
in  very  little  danger  from  great  crimes  ;  but  beware  lest 
any  man  spoil  you  through  philosophy.  What  hath  phi- 
losophy done,  that  the  apostle  should  thus  guard  Chris- 
tians against  it  ?  Did  he  not  know  that  before  his  time, 
while  mimics  were  idly  amusing  one  part  of  the  world, 
Bnd  heroes  depopulating  another,  the  peaceable  sons  of 
philosophy  disturbed  nobody,  but  either  improved  man- 
kind in  their  schools,  or  sat  all  calm  and  content  in  their 
cells  ?  Did  he  not  observe  that  in  his  time  Christianity 
was  reputed  folly,  because  it  was  taught  and  believed  by 
unlettered  people  ;  and  that  if  philosophers  could  be  pre- 
vailed on  to  teach  it,  it  would  have  instantly  acquired  a 
character  of  wisdom  ?  Whether  the  common  people  had 
understood  it  or  not,  they  would  have  reckoned  it  wise  if 
philosophers  had  taught  it.  The  apostle  knew  all  this, 
and,  far  from  courting  the  aid  of  learned  men  to  secure 
credit  to  the  Gospel,  he  guards  Christians  in  the  text 
against  the  future  temptation  of  doing  so.  Had  this  cau- 
tion been  given  us  by  ar;y  of  the  other  apostles,  who  had 
not  had  the  advantage  of  a  learned  education,  we  might 
have  supposed,  they  censured  what  they  did  not  under- 
stand ;  but  this  comes  from  the  disciple  of  Gamaliel.* 

28.]    Page  138 — 143.     Devotional  Poetry. 

The  following^  selection  of  Psalms  and  Hymns,  is  designed  only 
as  a  specimen  of  the  notation,  partially  applied  here,  which  might 
be  more  extensively  applied  to  these  compositions,  when  they  unite 
the  spirit  of  devotion  with  the  elevated  spirit  of  poetry. 

The  confinement  of  the  stanza  makes  it  much  more  unfavourable 
than  other  verse,  to  freedom  and  variety  in  pronunciation.  The 
reader  is  desired  to  keep  in  mind  the  distinction  between  intensive 
and  common  inflection,  and  to  remember  that  the  former  occurs  in 
this  kind  of  poetry  only  where  there  is  direct  question  or  strong 
emphasis. — In  some  cases  only  part  of  a  Psalm  or  Hymn  is  taken. 

*  The  selections  under  this  head  are  extended  no  farther  here,  because  several  of 
the  familiar  pieces  in  the  second  part  of  the  Exercises  are  good  examples  of  repre- 
sentation and  rhttoricaL  dialogue 


IS^^' 


260  exercises  on  modulation.         [ex.  28. 

1.  Psalm  17.  l.  m. 

1  What  sinners  vilue,  I  resign  ; 
Lord,  'lis  enough  thai  thou  art  mine  : 
I  shall  behold  thy  blissful  face, 

And  stand  complete  in  righteousness. 

2  This  life's  a  dream,  an  empty  show  ; 
But  the  bright  world  to  which  I  go, 
Hath  joys  substantial  and  sincere  ; 
When  shall  I  wake  and  find  me  there  f 

3  O  ••  glorious  hour  !  O  ..  blest  abode  ! 
I  shall  be  near,  and  like  my  God  ; 
And  flesh  and  sin  no  more  control 
The  sacred  pleasures  of  the  soul. 

4  My  flesh  shall  slumber  in  the  ground, 
Till  the  last  trumpet's  joyful  sound  : 
Then  burst  the  chains  with  sweet  surprise, 
And  in  my  Saviour^ s  image  rise. 

Note  :  In  some  of  the  cases  where  the  mark  of  monotone  occurs, 
there  is  a  little  inflection,  most  commonly  downwards. 

2.  Psalm  93.  p.  m. 

1  The  Lord  Jehovah  reigns, 
And  royal  slate  maintains. 

His  head  with  awful  glories  crow^n'd ; 

Array'd  in  robes  of  light. 

Begirt  with  sov'reign  might. 
And  rays  of  majesty  around. 

2  In  vain  the  noisy  crowd, 
Like  billows  fierce  and  loud. 

Against  thine  empire  rage  and  roar ; 

In  vain  with  angry  spite 

The  surly  nations  fight. 
And  dash  ••  like  waves  agamst  the  shore. 

3  Let  floods  and  nations  rage, 
And  all  their  power  engage  ; 

Lei  swelling  tides  assault  the  sky  : 


I 


Ex.  28.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  261 

The  terrors  of  thy  frown 
Shall  beat  their  madness  down  ; 
Thy  throne  for  ever  ..  stands  on  high. 

3.         Psalm  132.  c.  m. 

1  Arise,  O  King  of  grace,  arise, 

And  enter  to  thy  rest : 
Lo  !  thy  church  waits  with  longing  eyes, 
Thus  to  be  own'd  and  blest. 

2  Enter  with  all  thy  glorious  train, 

Thy  Spirit  and  thy  word  ; 
All  that  the  ark  did  once  contain, 
Could  no  such  grace  afford. 

3  Here  mighty  God,  accept  our  vows } 

Here  let  thy  praise  be  spread  ; 
Bless  the  provisions  of  thy  house, 
And  fill  thy  poor  with  bread. 

4  Here  let  the  Son  of  David  r^ign. 

Let  God's  anointed  shine  : 
Justice  and  truth  his  court  maintain, 
With  love  and  power  divine. 

5  Here  let  him  hold  a  lasting  throne. 

And  as  his  kingdom  grows, 
Fresh  honours  shall  adorn  his  crown, 
And  shame  confound  his  foes. 


4.         Psalm  135.  c, 


M. 


1  Great  is  the  Lord,  and  works  unknown 

Are  his  divine  employ  ; 
But  still  his  saints  are  near  his  throne, 
His  treasure  and  his  joy. 

2  All  power  that  gods  or  kings  have  claim'd 

Is  found  with  him  alone  ; 
But  heathen  gods  should  ne'er  be  nam'd 
Where  our  Jehovah's  known. 


363  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  28, 

3  Which  of  the  stocks  and  stones  they  trust 

Can  give  them  showers  of  rctin  ? 
In  vain  they  worship  glittVing  dtist^ 
And  pray  to  gold  in  vain. 

4  Ye  nations,  know  the  living  God, 

Serve  him  with  faith  and  fear  ; 
He  makes  the  churches  his  abode, 
And  claims  your  honours  there. 

5.         Psalm  139.  l.  m. 

1  My  thoughts,  before  they  are  my  own, 
Are  to  my  God  distinctly  known  ; 
He  knows  the  words  I  mean  to  speak. 
Ere  from  my  op'ning  lips  they  break. 

2  Araa  ••  zing  knowledge,  vast  and  great ! 
What  large  extent !  what  lofty  height ! 
My  soul,  with  all  the  powers  1  boast. 
Is  in  the  boundless  prospect  ••  lost. 

3  Oh  may  these  thoughts  possess  my  breast, 
Where'er  I  rove,  where'er  1  rest ; 
Nor  let  my  weaker  passions  dare  •• 
Consent  to  sin,  ••  for  God  is  there. 

6.         Psalm  146.   l.  p.  m. 

1  I'll  praise  my  Maker  with  my  breath ; 
And  when  my  voice  is  lost  in  death. 

Praise  shall  employ  my  nobler  powers  : 
My  days  of  praise  shall  ne'er  be  past. 
While  life,  and  thought,  and  being  last, 

Or  immortality  endures. 

2  Why  should  I  make  a  man  my  trust  ? 
Princes  must  die,  and  turn  to  dust : 

Vain  is  the  help  of  flesh  and  blood  ; 
Their  breath  departs,  their  pomp  and  pow'r, 
And  thoughts  all  vanish  in  an  hour ; 

Nor  can  they  make  their  promise  good. 


Ex.  28.]      EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  263 

3  Happy  the  man  whose  hopes  rely 
On  Israel's  God  ;  he  made  the  sky, 

And  earth,  and  seas,  with  aJJ  their  train  ; 
His  truth  forever  stands  secure  ; 
He  saves  th'  opprest,  he  feeds  the  poor; 

And  none  shall  find  his  promise  vain. 

7.  Hymn  142,  Book  i. 

1  Like  sheep  we  went  astray. 

And  broke  the  fold  of  God  ; 
Each  wand'ring  in  a  different  way, 
But  all  the  downward  road. 

2  How  dreadful  was  the  hour. 

When  God  our  wand'rings  laid, 
And  did  at  once  his  vengeance  pour 
Upon  the  Shepherd^s  head  ! 

3  How  glorious  was  the  grace, 

When  Christ  sustain'd  the  stroke  ? 
His  life  and  blood  the  shepherd  pays, 
A  ransom  for  the  flock. 

8.  Hymn  14,  Book  ii. 

1  Welcome,  sweet  day  of  rest, 

That  saw  the  Lord  arise  ; 
Welcome  to  this  reviving  breast, 
And  these  rejoicing  eyes ! 

2  One  day  amidst  the  place 

Where  my  dear  God  hath  been. 
Is  sweeter  than  ten  thousand  days 
Of  pleasurable  sin. 

3  My  willing  soul  would  stay 

In  such  a  frame  as  this ; 
And  sit  and  sing  herself  away 
To  everlasting  bliss. 


264  EXERCI«5F.S  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  28. 

9.         HvMN  76,  Book  ii. 

1  Hasanna  lo  the  Prince  of  lig;ht, 

That  cloth'd  liimself  in  clay  ; 
Enter'd  the  iron  gates  of  dealh, 
And  tore  the  bars  away. 

2  De  ilh  is  no  more  the  king  of  dread, 

Since  our  Immanuel  rose ; 
He  took  the  tyrant's  sting  away. 
And  Spoil'd  our  hellish  foes. 

3  Raise  your  devotion,  ••  mortal  tongues, — 

To  reach  his  blest  abode  : 
Sweet  be  the  accents  of  your  songs. 
To  our  incarnate  God. 

4  Bright  angels  !  ••  strike  your  loudest  strings, 

Your  sweetest  voices  raise  ; 
Let  heav'n  and  all  created  things 
Sound  our  Immanuel's  praise. 

10.     Hymn  77,  Book  ii. 

1  Stand  vp,  my  soul,  shake  off  thy  fears. 

And  gird  the  gospel  armour  on  ; 
March  to  the  gates  of  endless  joy, 

Where  thy  great  C?ipi?i\n- Saviour^ s  gone. 

2  Hell  and  thy  sins  resist  thy  course. 

But  hell  and  sin  are  vanquished  foes ; 
Thy  Jesus  nail'd  them  to  the  cross, 
And  sung  the  triumph  when  be  rose. 

3  Then  let  my  soul  march  boldly  on, 

Press  forward  to  the  heav'niy  gate  ; 
There  peace  and  joy  eternal  reign. 

And  glitt'ring  robes  for  conqu'rors  wait. 

4  There  shall  /  wear  a  starry  crown, 

And  triumph  in  almighty  grace  ; 
While  all  the  armies  of  the  skies. 
Join  in  my  glorious  Leader's  praise. 


Ex.  23.]  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  265 

11.         Hymn  108,  Book  ii. 

1  Come,  let  us  lift  our  joyful  eyes 

Up  to  the  courts  above. 
And  smile  to  see  our  Father  there, 
Upon  a  throne  of  love, 

2  Once  'twas  the  seat  of  dreadful  wrath, 

And  shot  devouring  flame  : 
Our  God  appear'd  consuming  fire, 
And  Vengeance  was  his  name. 

3  Rich  were  the  drops  of  Jesus'  blood, 

That  calmed  ••  his  frowning  face. 
That  sprinkl'd  o'er  the  burning  throne, 
And  turn'd  the  wrath  to  ^race. 

4  To  thee  ten  thousand  thanks  we  bring. 

Great  Advocate  on  high  ; 
And  glory  to  th'  eternal  King 
That  lays  his  fury  by. 

12.         Hymn  116,  Book  ii. 

1  How  can  I  sink  with  such  a  prop 

As  my  eternal  God, 
Who  bears  the  earth's  huge  pillars  up, 
And  spreads  the  heav'ns  abroad. 

2  How  can  /  die  while  Jesus  lives, 

Who  rose  and  left  the  dead  ? 
Pardon  and  grace  my  soul  receives 
From  mine  exalted  head. 

3  All  that  I  am,  and  all  I  have. 

Shall  be  forever  thine  : 
Whate'er  my  duty  bids  me  give. 
My  cheerful  hands  resign. 

4  Yet,  if  I  might  make  some  reserve, 

And  duty  did  not  call, 
I  love  my  God  with  zeal  so  great 
That  1  should  give  him  alL 
23 


266  EXERCISES  ON  MODULATION.  [Ex.  28. 

13.         Missionary  Hymn. 

1  From  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 
From  India's  coral  strand  ; 
Where  Afric's  sunny  fountains 
Roll  down  their  golden  sand ; 
From  many  an  ancient  river, 
From  many  a  palmy  plain. 
They  call  vs  to  deliver  •• 

Their  land  from  error's  chain. 

2  What  tho'  the  spicy  breezes 
Blow  soft  o'er  Ceylon's  isle, 
Tho'  every  prospect  pleases, 
And  only  man  is  vile ; 

In  vain  with  lavish  kindness 
The  gifts  of  God  are  strown  ; 
The  heathen  in  his  blindness 
Bows  down  to  wood  and  stone. 

3  Shall  we  whose  souls  are  lighted 
With  wisdom  from  on  high, 
Shall  we  to  men  benighted 
The  lamp  of  life  deny  ? 
{^)Salvation  I     O  ••  Salvation  ! 
The  joyful  sound  proclaim. 
Till  earth's  remotest  nation 
Has  learn'd  Messiah's  name. 

4  Waft,  waft,  ye  winds,  his  story. 
And  you,  ye  waters,  roll^ 
Till,  like  a  sea  of  glory. 
It  spreads  from  pole  to  pole  ; 
Till  o'er  our  ransom'd  nature, 
The  lamb  for  sinners  slain, 
Redeemer,  King,  Creator, 
In  bliss  returns  to  reign. 

Bishop  Heher. 


EXERCISES. 
PART  11. 

FAMIIiIAR  PIECES. 


The  reader  will  observe  that  no  rhetorical  notation  is  applied 
In  the  following;  Exercises* 

29.         HamleVs  instruction  to  Players, 

Speak  the  speech,  I  pray  you,  as  I  pronounced  it  to 
you,  trippingly  on  the  tongue  :  but  if  you  mouth  it,  as 
many  of  our  players  do,  I  had  as  lief  the  town-crier  spoke 
my  lines.  Nor  do  not  saw  the  air  too  much  with  your 
5  hand,  thus :  but  use  all  gently  :  for  in  the  very  torrent, 
tempest,  and  (as  I  may  say)  whirlwind  of  your  passion, 
you  must  acquire  and  beget  a  temperance  that  may 
give  it  smoothness.  O,  it  offends  me  to  the  soul,  to  hear 
a  robustious  periwig-pated   fellow  tear  a  passion  to  tat- 

10  ters,  to  very  rags,  to  split  the  ears  of  the  groundlings ;  who, 
for  the  most  part,  are  capable  of  nothing  but  inexplicable 
dumb  shows,  and  noise ;  I  would  have  such  a  fellow 
whipped  for  o'erdoing  Termagant ;  it  out-herods  Herod. 
Pray  you,  avoid  it. Be  not  too  tame  neither  ;  but  let 

15  your  own  discretion  be  your  tutor  :  suit  the  action  to  the 
word,  the  word  to  the  action  ;  with  this  special  obser- 
vance, that  you  o'erstep  not  the  modesty  of  nature  :  for 
any  thing  so  overdone  is  from  the  purpose  of  playing  ; 
whose  end,  both  at  the  first,  and  now,  was,  and  is,  to 

30  hold  as  'twere  the  mirror  up  to  nature ;  to  show  virtue 
her  own  feature,  scorn  her  own  image,  and  the  very  age 


268  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  30. 

and  body  of  the  time,  his  form  and  pressure.  Now  this, 
overdone,  or  come  tardy  off,  though  it  make  the  unskil- 
ful laugh,  cannot  but  make  the  judicious  grieve  ;  the 

25  censure  of  which  one,  must,  in  your  allowance,  o'er- 
weigh  a  whole  theatre  of  others.  O,  there  be  players, 
that  I  have  seen  play, — and  heard  others  praise,  and  that 
highly, — not  to  speak  it  profanely,  that,  neither  having 
the  accent  of  christians,  nor  the  gait  of  christian,  pagan, 

30  nor  man,  have  so  strutted,  and  bellowed,  that  I  have 
thought  some  of  nature's  journeymen  had  made  men, 
and  not  made  them  well,  they  imitated  humanity  so  a- 
bominably.  Shakspeare. 

30.  The  dead  3Iother. 

F,  Touch   not  thy  mother,  boy — Thou  canst  not 

wake  her. 
C  Why,  father  ?     She  still  wakens  at  this  hour. 
F.  Your  mother's  dead,  my  child. 
5         C.  And  what  is  dead  ? 

If  she  be  dead,  why  then  'tis  only  sleeping, 
For  I  am  sure  she  sleeps.     Come,  mother, — rise — 
Her  hand  is  very  cold  ! 
F,  Her  heart  is  cold. 
10  Her  limbs  are  bloodless,  would  that  mine  were  so  I 

C.  If  she  would  waken,  she  would  soon  be  warm. 
Why  is  she  wrapt  in  this  thin  sheet  ?     If  I, 
This  winter   morning,  were   not  covered  better, 
I  should   be   cold  like   her. 
15         F,    No — not  like   her  : 

The  fire  might  warm  you,  or  thick  clothes — but  her — 
Nothing  can   warm   again  ! 
C  If  I  could  wake  her. 
She  would  smile  on  me,  as  she   always  docs, 
20  And    kiss   me.     Mother !  you   have  slept  too  long — 
Her  face  is  pale — and   it  would   frighten  me. 
But  that  I  know  she  loves  me. 
F,   Come,   my  child. 

C,  Once,  when  I   sat  upon  her  lap,  I  felt 
25  A  beating  at  her  side,  and   then  she  said 
It  was  her  heart  that  beat,  and   bade  me   feel 
For  my  own  heart,  apd  they  both  beat  alike, 


Ex.  31.]  FAMILIAR  PIECES.  269 

Only  mine  was  the  quickest — And  I  feel 
My   own   heart  yet — but  her's — I  cannot   feel — 
30       F.  Child  !  child  ! — you  drive  me  mad — Come  hence, 
I  say. 
C.  Nay,  father,   be  not  angry !  let  me  stay  here 
Till  my   mother  wakens. 
F.  I  have  told   you, 
35  Your  Mother  cannot  wake — not  in  this  world — 
But  in  another  she  icill  wake  for  us. 
When  we  have  sle])t  like  her,  then  we  shall  see  her. 
C.  Would  it  were  night  then  ! 
F.  No,  unhappy  child! 
40  Full  many  a  night  shall  pass,  ere  thou  canst  sleep 
That  last,  long  sleep. — Thy  father  soon  shall  sleep  it ; 
Then  wilt  thou  be  deserted  upon  earth  : 
None  will  regard  thee  ;  thou  wilt  soon  forget 
That  thou  hadst  natural  ties, — an  orphan  lone, 
45  Abandoned  to  the  wiles  of  wicked  men, 
And  women  still  more  wicked. 

C  Father!     Father! 
Why  do  you  look  so  terribly  upon  me, 
You  will  not  hurt  me  ? 
50         F.  Hurt  thee,  darling  ?  no  ! 

Has  sorrow's  violence  so  much  of  anger. 
That  it  should  fright  my  boy  ?  Come,  dearest,  come. 
C.  You  are  not  angry  then  ? 
F,  Too  well  I  love  you. 
6o         C.  All  you  have  said  I  cannot  now  remember, 
Nor  what  is  meant — you  terrified  me  so. 
But  this  I  know,  you  told  me, — I  must  sleep 
Before  my  mother  wakens — so,  to-morrow — 
Oh  father  !  that  to-morrow  were  but  come  ! 

31.  The   Temptation. 

Gen.  iii. — I  Now  the  serpent  was  more  subtile  than  any 
beast  of  the  field  which  the  Lord  God  had  made  :  and  lie 
said  unto  the  woman,  yea,  hath  God  said.  Ye  shall  not  eat 
of  every  tree  of  the  garden?  2  And  the  woman  said  unto 
the  serpent,  we  may  eat  of  the  fruit  of  the  trees  of  the  gar- 
den :  3  But  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree  which  is  in  the  midst 
23* 


270  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  32. 

of  the  garden,  God  hath  said,  ye  shall  not  eat  of  it,  neither 
shall  ye  touch  it,  lest  ye  die.  4  And  the  serpent  said  unto 
the  woman,  ye  shall  not  surely  die.  5  For  God  doth  know 
that  in  the  day  ye  eat  thereof,  then  your  eyes  shall  be  open- 
ed ;  and  ye  shall  be  as  gods,  knowing  good  and  evil.  8 
And  they  heard  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God  walking  in  the 
garden  in  the  cool  of  the  day  :  and  Adam  and  his  wife  hid 
themselves  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord  God  amongst  the 
trees  of  the  garden.  9  And  the  Lord  God  called  unto  Ad- 
am, and  said  unto  him.  Where  art  thou  ?  10  And  he  said, 
I  heard  thy  voice  in  the  garden  :  and  I  was  afraid,  because 
I  was  naked;  and  I  hid  myself.  11  And  he  said.  Who 
told  thee  that  thou  wast  naked  ?  Hast  thou  eaten  of  the  tree 
whereof  I  commanded  thee,  that  thou  shouldest  not  eat  ? 
12  And  the  man  said,  The  woman  whom  thou  gavest  to  be 
with  me,  she  gave  me  of  the  tree,  and  T  did  eat.  13  And 
the  Lord  God  said  unto  the  woman.  What  is  this  that  thou 
hast  done  ?  And  the  woman  said,  The  serpent  beguiled 
Bie,  and  I  did  eat. 

32.  Partialiiy  of  Authors, 

"  Have  you  read  my  Key  to  the  Romans  V^ — said 
Dr.  Taylor,  of  Norwich,  to  Mr.  Newton. — ''  I  have 
turned  it  over." — "  You  have  turned  it  over  !  And  is 
this  the  treatment  a  book  must  meet  with,  which  has 
5  cost  me  many  years  of  hard  study  ?  Must  I  be  told,  at 
last,  that  you  have  *  turned  it  over,'  and  then  thrown  it 
aside  1  You  ought  to  have  read  it  carefully  and  weigh- 
ed deliberately  what  comes  forward  on  so  serious  a  sub- 
ject."— *'  Hold  !     You  have  cut  me  out  full  employment, 

10  if  my  life  were  to  be  as  long  as  Methuselah's.  I  have 
somewhat  else  to  do  in  the  short  day  allotted  me,  than  to 
read  whatever  any  one  may  think  it  his  duty  to  write. 
When  I  read,  I  wish  to  read  to  good  purpose  ;  and 
there  are  some  books,  which  contradict  on  the  very  face 

15  of  them  what  appear  to  me  to  be  first  principles.  You 
surely  will  not  say  I  am  bound  to  read  such  books.  If 
a  man  tells  me  he  has  a  very  elaborate  argument  to 
prove  that  two  and  two  make  fi\e,  I  have  something 
ebe  to  do  than  to  attend  to  this  argument.    If  I  find 


Ex.  33.]  FAMILIAR    PIECES.  271 

20  the  first  mouthful  of  meat  which  I  take  from  a  fine- 
looking  joint  on  my  table  is  tainted,  I  need  not  eat 
through  it  to  be  convinced  I  ought  to  send  it  away." 

Cecil. 

33.  What  is  Time  ? 

I  ASKED  an  aged  man,  a  man  of  cares, 
Wrinkled,  and  curved,  and  white  with  hoary  hairs'; 
*'  Time  is  the  warp  of  life,"  he  said,  "  Oh,  tell 

The  young,  the  fair,  the  gay,  to  weave  it  well!'' 
5  I  asked  the  ancient,  venerable  dead, 

Sages  who  wrote,  and  warriours  who  bled  ; 

From  the  cold  grave  a  hollow  murmur  flowed, 

**  Time  sowed  the  seed  we  reap  in  this  abode  1" 

I  asked  a  dying  sinner,  ere  the  tide 
10  Of  life  had  left  his  veins:  ''  Time  !"  he  replied  ; 

"  I've  lost  it  1"  Ah,  the  treasure  !  and  he  died. 

I  asked  the  golden  sun,  and  silver  spheres, 

Those  bright  chronometers  of  days  and  years  : 

They  answered,  **'Time  is  but  a  meteor  glare  !" 
15  And  bade  us  for  eternity  prepare. 

I  asked  the  Seasons,  in  their  annual  round, 

Which  beautify,  or  desolate  the  ground  ; 

And  they  replied,  (no  oracle  more  wise,) 

"-  'Tis  Folly's  blank,  and  Wisdom's  highest  prize  !" 
20  I  asked  a  spirit  lost ;  but  oh,  the  shriek 

That  pierced  my  soul  !  I  shudder  while  I  speak  ! 

It  cried,  **  A  particle,  a  speck,  a  mite 

Of  endless  years,  duration  infinite  !" — 

Of  things  inanimate,  my  dial,  I 
25  Consulted,  and  it  made  me  this  reply : — 

**  Time  is  the  season  fair  of  living  well, 

The  path  of  glory,  or  the  path  of  hell." 

I  asked  my  Bible  ;  and  methinks  it  said, 

*'  Time  is  the  present  hour, — the  past  is  fled  ; 
30  Live  !  live  to-day !  to-morrow  never  yet 

On  any  human  being  rose  or  set." 

I  asked  old  Father  Time  himself,  at  last, 

But  in  a  moment  he  flew  swiftly  past : 

His  chariot  was  a  cloud,  the  viewless  wind 
35  His  noiseless  steeds,  which  left  no  trace  behind. 


272  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  34-35. 

I  asked  the  mighty  anoel,  who  shall  stand, 
One  foot  on  sea,  and  one  on  solid  land ; 
*'  By  heavens,"  he  cried,  *'  I  swear  the  mystery's  o'er  : 
Time  waSj^  he  cried,  *'  but  Time  shall  be  no  more  !" 

Marsden, 

34.  Ruth  and  Naomi. 

Ruth  i.-14  And  they  lifted  up  their  voice,  and  wept  again. 
And  Orpah  kissed  her  mother-in-law  ;  but  Ruth  clave  unto 
her.  15  And  she  said,  Behold,  thy  sister-in-law  is  gone 
back  unto  her  people,  and  unto  her  gods  :  return  thou  after 
thy  sister-in-law.  16  And  Ruth  said,  Entreat  me  not  to 
leave  thee,  or  to  return  from  following  after  thee  :  for  whith- 
er thou  goest,  I  will  go ;  and  where  thou  lodgest,  I  will 
lodge  ;  thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and  thy  God  my  God  : 
17  Where  thou  diest,  will  I  die,  and  there  will  I  be  buri- 
ed ;  the  Lord  do  so  to  me,  and  more  also,  if  aught  but  death 
part  thee  and  me.  18  When  she  saw  that  she  was  sted- 
fastly  minded  to  go  with  her,  then  she  left  speaking  unto 
her. 

19  So  they  two  went  until  they  came  to  Betldehem. 
And  it  came  to  pass,  when  they  were  come  to  Bethlehem, 
that  all  the  city  was  moved  about  them,  and  they  said,  is 
this  Naomi  ?  20  And  she  said  unto  them,  call  me  not 
Naomi,  call  me  Mara  :  for  the  Almighty  hath  dealt  very 
bitterly  with  me.  21  I  went  out  full,  and  the  Lord  hath 
brought  me  home  again  empty :  why  then  call  ye  me  Nao- 
mi, seeing  the  Lord  hath  testified  against  me,  and  the  Al- 
mighty hath  afflicted  me?  22  So  Naomi  returned,  and 
Ruth  the  Moabitess,  her  daughter-in-law,  with  her,  which 
returned  out  of  the  country  of  Moab  :  and  they  came  to 
Bethlehem  in  the  beginning  of  barley-harvest. 

35.  Influence  of  education^  constitution,  and  circumstan- 
ces informing  character. 

He  has  seen   but  little  of  life,  who  does  not  discern 

every  where  the  effects  of  education  on  men's  opinions 

and  habits  of  thinkinor.     Two  children    brin^r  out  of 

the  nursery  that,  which  displays   itself  throughout  their 

6  lives.     And  who  is  the  maa  that  can  rise  above  his  dis- 


Ex.  35.]  FAMILIAR  PIECES.  273 

pensation,  and  can  say,  **  You  have   been  teaching  me 
nonsense  ?" 

As  to  constitution — look  at  Martin  Luther :    we  may 
see  the  man  every  day  :  his  eyes,  and  nose,  and  mouth 

10  attest  his  character.  Look  at  Melancthon  :  he  is  like  a 
snail  with  his  couple  of  horns  ;  he  puts  out  his  horns  and 
feels-and  feels-and  feels.  No  education  could  have  ren- 
dered these  two  men  alike.  Their  difference  beoran  in 
the  womb.  Luther  dashes  in  saying  his  things ;  Melanc- 

15  thon  must  go  round  about — he  must  consider  what  the 
Greek  says,  and  what  the  Syriac  says.  Some  men  are 
born  minute  men — lexicographers — of  a  German  charac- 
ter :  they  will  hunt  through  libraries  to  rectify  a  sylla- 
ble.    Other  men  are  born   keen  as  a  razor  ;  they  have 

20  a  sharp,  severe,  strong  acumen  :  they  cut  every  thing 
to  pieces  :  their  minds  are  like  a  case  of  instruments  ; 
touch  which  you  will  it  wounds ;  they  crucify  a  mod- 
est man.  Such  men  should  aim  at  a  right  knowledge 
of  character.     If  they  attained  this,  they  would  find  out 

2o  the  sin  that  easily  besets  them.  The  greater  the  capac- 
ity of  such  men,  the  greater  their  cruelty.  They  ought 
to  blunt  their  instruments.  They  ought  to  keep  them 
in  a  case.  Other  men  are  ambitious — fond  of  pmver ; 
pride  and  power  give  a  velocity  to  their  motions.     Oth- 

30  ers  are  born  with  a  quiet,  retiring  mind.  Some  are  nat- 
urally fierce,  and  others  naturally  mild  and  placable. 
Men  often  take  to  themselves  great  credit  for  what 
they  owe  entirely  to  nature.  If  we  would  judge  right- 
ly, we  should  see  that  narrowness  or  expansion  of  mind, 

35  niggardliness  or  generosity,  delicacy  or  boldness,  have 
less  of  merit  or  demerit  than  we  commonly  assign  to 
them. 

Circumstances,   also,   are  not  sufliciently  taken  into 
the  account,    when  we  estimate  character.     For  exam- 

40  pie — we  generally  censure  the  Reformers  and  Puritans 
as  dogmatical,  morose,  systematic  men.  But,  it  is  easi- 
er to  walk  on  a  road,  than  to  form  that  road.  Other 
men  labored ^  and  ice  have  entered  into  their  labors.  In  a 
fine  day,  I  can  walk  abroad  ;  but  in  a  rough  and  stormy 

45  day,  I  should  find  il  another  thing  to  turn  coachman 
and  dare  all  weathers.    These  men  had  to  bear  the  bur-* 


274  EXERCISES.  ("Ex.  36. 

den  and  heat  of  the  day :  they  had  to  fight  against  hard 
times  :  they  had  to  stand  up  against  learning  and  pow- 
er.    Their  times  were  not  like  oiirs :  a  man  may  now 

60  think  what  he  will,  and  nobody  cares  what  he  thinks. 
A  man  of  that  school  was,  of  course  stiff,  rigid^  unyield- 
ing. Tuckney  was  such  a  man  :  Whichcot  was  for 
smoothing  things,  and  walked  abroad.  We  see  circum- 
stances operating  in  many  other  ways.     A  minister   un- 

55  married,  and  the  same  man  married,  are  very  different 
men.  A  minister  in  a  small  parish,  and  the  same  man 
in  a  large  sphere  where  his  sides  are  spurred  and  goad- 
ed, are  very  different  men.  A  minister  on  tenter-hooks 
— harassed — schooled,  and  the  same  man  nursed — cher- 

60  ished — put  into  a  hot-house,  are  very  different  men. 
Some  of  us  are  hot-house  plants.  We  grow  tall :  not 
better — not  stronger.  Talents  are  among  the  circum- 
stances which  form  the  diversity  of  character.  A  man 
of  talents  feels  his  own  powers,  and  throws  himself  into 

65  that  line  which  he  can  pursue  with  most  success.  Sau- 
rin  felt  that  he  could  flourish — lighten — thunder— en- 
chant, like  a  magician.  Every  one  should  seriously 
consider,  how  far  his  talents  and  turn  of  mind  and  cir-i 
cumstances  divert  him  out  of  the  right  road.       Cecily 

36.         Death  of  Absalom, 

2  Sam.  xviii. — 19  Then  said  Ahimaaz  the  Son  of  Zadok, 
Let  me  now  run,  and  bear  the  king  tidings,  how  that  the 
Lord  hath  avenged  him  of  his  enemies.  20  And  Joab  said 
unto  him,  Thou  shalt  not  bear  tidings  this  day,  but  thou 
shalt  bear  tidings  another  day  ;  but  this  day  thou  shalt  bear 
no  tidings,  because  the  king's  son  is  dead.  21  Then  said 
Joab  to  Cushi,  Go,  tell  the  king  what  thou  hast  seen.  And 
Cushi  bowed  himself  unto  Joab,  and  ran.  22  Then  said 
Ahimaaz  the  son  of  Zadok  yet  again  to  Joab,  But  howso- 
ever, let  me,  I  pray  thee,  also  run  after  Cushi,  And  Joab 
said.  Wherefore  wilt  thou  run,  my  son,  seeing  that  thou 
hast  no  tidings  ready  ?  23  But  howsoever,  said  he,  let  me 
run.  And  he  said  unto  him.  Run.  Then  Ahimaaz  ran 
by  the  way  of  the  plain,  and  overran  Cushi.  24  And  Da- 
vid sat  between  the  two  gates  ;  and  the  watchman  went  up 


Ex.  37.]  FAMILIAR    PIECES.  275 

to  the  roof  over  the  gate   unto  the  wall,   and  lifted   up  his 
eyes,  and  looked,  and  behold  a  man  running  alone.  25  And 
the  watchman  cried,  and  told  the  king.  And  the  king  said, 
If  he  be  alone  there  is  tidings  in  his  mouth.    And  he  came 
apace,  and  drew  near.    26  And  the  watchman  saw  another 
man  running :  and  the   watchman   called  unto  the  porter 
and  said,  Behold,  another  man  running  alone.     And  the 
king  said,  He  also  bringeth  tidings.     27  And  the  watch- 
man said,   Methinketh  the  running  of  the  foremost  is  like 
the  running  of  Ahimaaz  the  son  of  Zadok.     And  the  king 
said.  He  is  a  good   man,  and   cometh   with  good   tidings. 
28  And  Ahimaaz  called,  and  said  unto  the  king.  All  is  well. 
And  he  fell  down  to  the  earth  upon  his  face  before  the  king, 
and  said.  Blessed  be  the  Lord  thy  God,  which  hath  deliver- 
ed up  the  men  that  lifted  up  their  hand  against  my  lord  the 
king.     29  And  the  king  said,  Is  the  young  man  Absalom 
safe  ?     Ahimaaz  answered,  When  Joab  sent  the  king's  ser- 
vant, and  me  thy  servant,  I  saw  a  great  tumult,  but  I  knew 
not  what  it  was.     30  And  the  king  said  unto  him.     Turn 
aside,  and   stand  here.     And  he  turned   aside,  and  stood 
still.     31  And  behold,  Cushi  came ;  and   Cushi  said,  Tid- 
ings, my  lord  the   king :  for  the   Lord   hath  avenged  thee 
this  day  of  all  them  that  rose  up  against  thee.     32  And  the 
king  said  unto  Cushi,  Is  the  young   man  Absalom  safe  1 
And  Cushi  answered,  The  enemies  of  my  lord   the  king, 
and  all  that  rise  against  thee  to  do  thee  hurt,  be  as  that 
young  man   is. 

33  And  the  king  was  much  moved,  and  went  up  to  the 
chamber  over  the  gate,  and  wept :  and  as  he  went,  thus  he 
said,  O  my  son  Absalom  !  my  son,  my  son  Absalom  !  would 
God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son  I 

37.  Hamlet  and  Horatio. 

Hor.  Hail  to  your  lordship  ! 
Ham,  I  am  glad  to  see  you  well :  (approaches.) 
Horatio  I         or  do  I  forget  myself. 

Hor.  The  same,  my  lord,  and  your  poor  servant  ever. 
5       Ham.  Sir,   my  good  friend ;  I'll  change  that  name 
with  you. 
And  what  makes  you  from  Wittenberg,  Horatio? 


276  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  37. 

Hor.  A  truant  disposition,  good,  my  lord. 

Ham,  I  would  not  hear  your  enemy  say  so ; 
10  Nor  shall  you  do  mine  ear  that  violence, 
To  make  it  truster  of  your  own  report 
Against  yourself.     I  know  you  are  no  truant : 
But  what  IS  your  affair  in  Elsinore  ? 
We'll  teach  you  to  drink  deep  ere  you  depart. 
15       Hor,  My  lord,  I  came  to  see  your  father's  funeral. 

Ham.  I  pray  thee  do  not  mock  me,  fellow-student ; 
I  think  it  was  to  see  my  mother's  wedding. 

Hor,  Indeed,  my  lord,  it  followed  hard  upon. 

Ham.  Thrift,  thrift,  Horatio  !  the  funeral  baked  meats^ 
20  Did  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage  tables. 
Would  I  had  met  my  dearest  foe  in  heaven, 
Or  ever  I  had  seen  that  day,  Horatio ! 
[My  Father Methinks  I  see  my  father 

Hor,  Where,  my  lord? 
25       Ham,  In  my  mind's  eye,  Horatio. 

Hor.  I  saw  him  once,  he  w^as  a  goodly  king. 

Ham.  He  was  a  man,  take  him  for  all  in  all, 
I  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again. 

Hor.  My  lord,  1  think  I  saw  him  yesternight. 
30       Ham.  Saw  !  who  ? 

Hor.  My  lord,  the  king,  your  father. 

Ham,  The  king,  my  father  ! 

Hor.  Season  your  admiration  for  a  while, 
With  an  attent  ear  ;  till  I  may  deliver, 
85  Upon  the  witness  of  these  gentlemen. 
This  marvel  to  you. 

Ham,  For  heaven's  love,  let  me  hear. 

Hor,  Two  nights  together  had  these  gentlemen, 
Marcellus  and  Bernardo,  on  their  watch, 
40  In  the  dead  waste  and  middle  of  the  night, 

Been  thus  encountered :  a  figure  like  your  father, 
Armed  at  point,  exactly,  cap-a-pe, 
Appears  before  them,  and,  with  solemn  march, 
Goes  slow  and  stately  by  them  ;  thrice  he  walked 
45  By  their  oppressed  and  fear-surprised  eyes. 

Within  his  truncheon's  length  ;  whilst  they  (distilled 
Almost  to  jelly  with  the  act  of  fear) 
Stand  dumb,  and  speak  not  to  him. 


Ex.   37.]  FAMILIAR     PIECLS.  277 

Ham,  But   where   was  this  ? 
50       //or.  My  lord,  upon  the  platform  where  we  watched. 
Ham,  Did  yov  not  speak  to  it  ? 
Hor,  My  lord,   I   did  ; 
But  answer  made  it  none.     Yet  once,  methought, 
It  lifted  up  its  head,  and   did  address 
55  Itself  to  motion,  like   as  it  would  speak ; 

But,  even  then,  the  morning  cock  crew  loud  ; 
And   at  the  sound  it  shrunk  in  haste  aw^ay, 
And  vanished    from   our  sight. 
Ham,  'Tis  very  strange  ! 
60       Hor.  As  I  do  live,  my   honoured  lord,  'tis  true  ; 
And  we  did   think  it  writ  down   in  our  duty, 
To  let  you  know  of  it. 

Ham,  Indeed,   indeed,  Sir,  but  this  troubles  me. 
Hold  you  the  watch  to  night  ? 
65       Hor,  We  do,  my  lord. 
Ham,  Armed,  say  you  ? 
Hor.  Armed,  my  lord. 
Ham.  From  top  to  toe  ? 
Hor.  My   lord,   from   head   to   foot. 
70       Ham.  Then  saw  you  not  his  face  1 

Hor.  O  yes,  my  lord  :  he   wore  his  beaver  up. 
Ham.  What,   looked  he   frowningly  ? 
Hor,  A   countenance  more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger. 
Ham,  Pale,  or  red  ? 
75       Hor.  Nay,   very  pale. 

Ham,  And   fixed  his  eyes  upon  you  ? 
Hor,  Most  constantly. 
Ham.  I  would,   I  had  been  there. 
Hor.  It  would  have  much  amazed  you. 
80       Ham.  Very  like,   very  like  ;  staid   it  long  ? 

Hor,  While  one  with  moderate  haste  might  tell  a  hun- 
dred. 
Ham,  His  beard  was  grizzled  ? — no  ? — 
Hor,  It  was,   as  I  have  seen  it  in  his  life, 
85  A  sable  silvered. 

Hatn.  I'll  watch  to  night ;  perchance,  'twill  walk  again. 
Hor.  I  warrant  you,  it  will. 
Hatn.  If  it  assume  my  noble   father's  person, 
24 


278  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  38. 

I'll  speak  to  it,   though   hell  itself  should  gape, 
90  And  bid  me  hold   my   peace.     I  pray   you,  sir, 
If  you  have   hitherto  concealed  this  sight, 
Let  it  be   tenable   in  your  silence  still ; 
And  whatsoever  else  shall   hap  to   night. 
Give  it  an    understanding,   but  no  tongue ; 
95  I  will   requite  your   love  :  so,  fare   you  well. 
Upon  the  platform,  'twixt  eleven  and   twelve, 
I'll  visit  you.  Shakspeare. 


38.         An  idea  of  faith  impressed  on  a  child. 


I 


Children  are  very  early  capable  of  impression.  I  im- 
printed on  my  daughter  the  idea  of  faith,  at  a  very  early 
age.  She  was  playing  one  day  with  a  few  beads,  which 
seemed  to  delight  her  wonderfully.  Her  whole  soul 
5  was  absorbed  in  her  beads.  I  said — ''  My  dear,  you 
have  some  pretty  beads  there." — "  Yes,  Papa  !" — "  And 
you  seem  to  be  vastly  pleased  with  them." —  *'  Yes, 
Papa !" — "  Well  now,  throw  'em  behind  the  fire."  The 
tears  started   into   her  eyes.     She  looked  earnestly  at 

10  me,  as  though  she  ought  to  have  a  reason  for  such  a 
cruel  sacrifice.  "Well,  my  dear,  do  as  you  please  : 
but  you  know  I  never  told  you  to  do  any  thing,  which 
I  did  not  think  would  be  good  for  you."  She  look- 
ed at  me  a  few  moments  longer,   and  then — summon- 

15  ing  up  all  her  fortitude — her  breast  heaving  with  the 
effort — she  dashed  them  into  the  fire. — **  Well,"  said 
I ;  ''  there  let  them  lie,  you  shall  hear  more  about  them 
another  time  ;  but  say  no  more  about  them  now." 
Some  days  after,  I  bought  her  a  box  full  of  larger  beads, 

20  and  toys  of  the  same  kind.  When  I  returned  home,  I 
opened  the  treasure  and  set  it  before  her  ;  she  burst 
into  tears  with  ecstacy.  **  Those,  my  child,"  said  I, 
*'  are  yours  :  because  you  believed  me,  when  I  told  you 
it  would  be  better  for  you  to  throw  those  two  or  three 

25  paltry  beads  behind  the  fire.  Now  that  has  brought 
you  this  treasure.  But  now,  my  dear,  remember,  as 
long  as  you  live,  what  Faith  is.  I  did  all  this  to  teach 
you  the  meaning  of  Faith.  You  threw  your  beads 
away  when  I  bid  you,  because  you  had  faith  in  me,  that 


I 


Ex.  39,  40.]  FAMILIAR  PIECES.  279 

30  I  never  advised  you  but  for  your  good.  Put  the  same 
confidence  in  God.  Believe  every  thing  that  he  says 
in  his  word.  Whether  you  understand  it  or  not,  have 
faith  in  him  that  he  means  your  good."  Cecil, 

39.  Conversation. 

Duhius  is  such  a  scrupulous  good  man — 

Yes — you  may  catch  him  tripping  if  you  can, 

He  would  not,  with  a  peremptory  tone, 

Assert  the  nose  upon  his  face  his  own  ; 
5     With  hesitation  admirably  slow, 

He  humbly  hopes — presumes — it  may  be  so. 

His  evidence,  if  he  were  called  by  law 

To  swear  to  some  enormity  he  saw, 

For  want  of  prominence  and  just  relief, 
10     Would  hang  an  honest  man,  and  save  a  thief. 

Through  constant  dread  of  giving  truth  offence, 

He  ties  up  all  his  hearers  in  suspense ; 

Knows,  what  he  knows,  as  if  he  knew  it  not ; 

What  he  remembers,  seems  to  have  forgot ; 
15     His  sole  opinion,  whatsoe'er  befall, 

Centering  at  last  in  having  none  at  all. 

Yet,  though  he  tease  and  baulk  your  listening  ear, 

He  makes  one  useful  point  exceeding  clear  ; 

However  ingenious  on  his  darling  theme 
20     A  sceptic  in  philosophy  may  seem, 

Reduced  to  practice,  his  beloved  rule 

Would  only  prove  him  a  consummate  fool  ; 

Useless  in  him  alike  both  brain  and  speech. 

Fate  having  placed  all  truth  above  his  reach, 
25     His  ambiguities  his  total  sum, 

He  might  as  well  be  blind,  and  deaf,  and  dumb. 

Coicper, 

40.  Conversation. 

Some  fretful  tempers  wince  at  every  touch, 
You  always  do  too  little  or  too  much  : 
You  speak  with  life,  in  hopes  to  entertain. 
Your  elevated  voice  goes  through  the  brain  ; 


280  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  40. 

6     You  falJ  at  once  into  a  lower  key, 

That's  worse — the  drone-pipe  of  an  humblebee. 
The  southern  sash  admits  too  strong  a  light, 
You  rise  and  drop  the  curtain — now  'tis  night. 
He  shakes  witli  cold — you  stir  the  fire  and  strive 
10     To  make  a  blaze — that's  roasting  him  alive. 
Serve  him  with  venison,  and  he  chooses  fish  ; 

With  soal — that's  just  the  sort  he  does  not  wish. 

He  takes  what  he  at  first  professed  to  loath, 

And  in  due  time  feeds  heartily  on  both  ; 
15     Yet  still  o'erclouded  with  a  constant  frown. 

He  does  not  swallow,  but  he  gulps  it  down. 

Your  hope  to  please  him  vain  on  every  plan, 

Himself  should  work  that  wonder,  if  he  can — 

Alas !  his  efforts  double  his  distress, 
20     He  likes  yours  little,  and  his  own  still  less. 

Thus  always  teasing  others,  always  teased, 

His  only  pleasure  is — to  be  displeased. 
1  pity  bashful  men,  who  feel  the  pain 

Of  fancied  scorn  and  undeserved  disdain, 
25     And  bear  the  marks  upon  a  blushing  face 

Of  needless  shame,  and  self-imposed  disgrace 

Our  sensibilities  are  so  acute, 

The  fear  of  being  silent  makes  us  mute. 

We  sometimes  think  we  could  a  speech  produce 
30     Much  to  the  purpose,  if  our  tongues  were  loose  ; 

But  being  tried,  it  dies  upon  the  lip, 

Faint  as  a  chicken's  note  that  has  the  pip : 

Our  wasted  oil  unprofitably  burns, 

Like  hidden  lamps  in  old  sepulchral  urns. 
35     The  circle  formed,  we  sit  in  silent  state, 

Like  figures  drawn  upon  a  dial  plate  ; 

Yes  ma'am,  and  no  ma'am  uttered  softly,  show 

Every  five  minutes  how  the  minutes  go ; 

Each  individual,  suffering  a  constraint 
40     Poetry  may,  but  colours  cannot  paint  ; 

As  if  in  close  committee  on  the  sky, 

Reports  it  hot  or  cold,  or  wet  or  dry  ; 

And  finds  a  changing  clime  a  happy  source 

Of  wise  reflection,  and  wtll  timed  discourse. 
45     We  next  inquire,  but  softly  and  by  stealth, 


Ex.  41.]  FAMILIAR    PIECES.  281 

Like   conservators  of  the  public   health, 

Of  epidemic  throats,  if  such   there  are, 

And  coughs,  and   rheums,  and   phthisic,   and  catarrh. 

That   theme  exhausted,  a  wide  chasm  ensues, 

50     Filled   up  at  last  with   interesting  news. 

Who  danced  with  whom,  and  who  are  like  to  wed, 
And  who  is  hanged,   and   who   is   brought  to  bed : 
But  fear  to  call  a  more   important  cause. 
As  if  'twere  treason  against  English  laws. 

55     The  visit  paid,  with  ecstasy   we  come. 

As  from   a  seven  years'  transportation,   home, 
And  there  resume  an   unembarrassed  brow, 
Recovering  what  we  lost  we  know  not  how, 

60     The   faculties,  that  seemed  reduced  to  nought, 
Expression   and  the  privilege  of  thought. 


Cowper. 


41.  Lady  Percy  to  her  husba?id. 


Tell  me,  sweet  lord,  what  is't  that  takes  from  thee 
Thy  stomach,   pleasure,   and   thy  golden  sleep  ? 
"Why  dost  thou  bend  thine  eyes  upon   the  earth  ; 
And   start  so  often    when    thou   sit'st  alone  ? 
Why  hast  thou  lost  the   fresh  blood   in  thy   cheeks ; 
5     And  given  my   treasures,  and   my   rights  of  thee, 
To  thick-ey'd   musing,   and   curs'd   melancholy  ? 
In  thy   faint  slumbers,  I  by  thee   have   watch'd, 
And  heard  thee   murmur  tales  of  iron   wars  : 
Speak  terms  of  rranage  to  thy  bounding  steed  ; 

10     Cry,   Courage! — to  the f  eld!     And  thou  hast  talk'd 
Of  sallies,   and  retires  ;  of  trenches,  tents, 
Of  palisadoes,  frontiers,   parapets ; 
Of  basilisks,  of  cannon,   culverin  ; 
Of  prisoners'  ransom,  and  of  soldiers  slain, 

15     And  all  the  'currents  of  a  heady  fight. 

Thy  spirit  within  thee   hath   been  so  at  war, 
And  thus  hath   so  bestirr'd  thee  in   thy  sleep, 
That  beads  of  sweat  have  stood  upon  thy   brow. 
Like  bubbles  in  a  late  disturbed  stream ; 

20     And  in  thy  face   strange  motions  have  appear'd, 
Such  as  we  see  when  men  restrain  their  breath 
24* 


282  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  42. 

On  some  great  sudden  haste.     O,  what  portents  are 

these  ? 
Some  heavy   business   hath  my  lord  in  hand, 
25  And  I  must  know  it,  else  he  loves  me  not. 

Skakspeare, 

42.    The  exercise  of  the  Memory  in  learning  not  sufficient. 

To  learn,  seems,  with  many,  to  imply  no  more  than 
a  bare  exercise  of  memory.  To  read,  and  to  remember 
is,  they  imagine,  all  they  have  to  do.  I  affirm  on  the 
contrary  that  a  great  deal  more  is  necessary,  as  to  exer- 

5  cise  the  judgment  and  the  discursive  faculty.  I  shall 
put  the  case,  that  one  were  employed  to  teach  you  alge- 
bra ;  and  instead  of  instructing  you  in  the  manner  of 
stating  and  resolving  algebraic  equations,  he  should 
think  it  incumbent  on  him,  only  to  inform  you  of  all  the 

10  principal  problems,  that  had  at  any  time  exercised  the 
art  of  the  most  famous  algebraists,  and  the  solutions 
they  had  given  ;  and  being  possessed  of  a  retentive  me- 
mory, I  shall  suppose,  you  have  a  distinct  remembrance 
both  of  the  questions  and   the  answers ;  could  ye   for 

15  this,  be  said  to  have  learnt  algebra  ?  No,  surely.  To 
teach  you  that  ingenious  and  useful  art,  is  to  instruct 
you  in  those  principles,  by  the  proper  application  of 
which,  you  shall  be  enabled  to  solve  the  questions  for 
yourselves.     In  like  manner,  to  teach  you  to  understand 

20  the  scriptures,  is  to  initiate  you  into  those  general  prin- 
ciples, which  will  gradually  enable  you  of  yourselves, 
to  enter  into  their  sense  and  spirit.  It  is  not  to  make 
you  repeat  by  rote  the  judgments  of  others,  but  to 
bring  you  to  form  judgments  of  your  own  ;  to  see  with 

25  your  own  eyes,  and  not  with  other  people's.  I  shall 
conclude  this  prelection  with  the  translation  of  a  short 
passage  from  the  Persian  letters,  which  falls  in  entirely 
with  my  present  subject.  Rica  having  been  to  visit 
the  library  of  a  French  convent,  writes  thus  to  his  friend 

30  in  Persia  concerning  what  had  passed.  Father,  said  I 
to  the  librarian,  what  are  these  huge  volumes  which  fill 
the  whole  side  of  the  library?  These,  said  he,  are  the 
Interpreters  of  the  scriptures.     There  is  a  prodigious 


Ex.  43.]  FAMILIAR  PIECES.  283 

number  of  them,  replied  I ;  the   scriptures  must  have 

35  been  very  dark  formerly  and  very  clear  at  present. 
Do  there  remain  still  any  doubts  ?  Are  there  now  any 
points  contested  ?  Are  there,  answered  he  with  sur- 
prise, Are  there?  There  are  almost  as  many  as  there 
are  lines.     You  astonish  me,  said  I,  what  then  have  all 

40  these  authors  been  doing  ?  These  authors,  returned 
he,  never  searched  the  scriptures,  for  what  ought  to  be 
believed,  but  for  what  they  did  believe  themselves. 
They  did  not  consider  them  as  a  book,  wherein  were 
contained   the   doctrines  which  they  ought   to  receive, 

45  but  as  a  work  which  might  be  made  to  authorize  their 
own  ideas.  For  this  reason,  they  have  corrupted  all 
the  meanings,  and  have  put  every  passage  to  the  tor- 
ture, to  make  it  speak  their  own  sense.  'Tis  a  country 
whereon  people  of  all  sects  make  invasions,   and  go  for 

50  pillage  ;  it  is  a  field  of  battle,  where  when  hostile  na- 
tions meet,  they  engage,  attack  and  skirmish  in  a  thou- 
sand different  ways.  Campbell. 

43.  Casablanca.* 

1   The  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck, 
Whence  all  but  him  had  fled  ; 
The  flame  that  lit  the  battle's  wreck, 
Shone  round  him  o'er  the  dead. 

3  The  flames  roll'd  on — he  would  not  go, 
Without  his  father's  word  ; 
That  father,  faint  in  death  below, 
His  voice  no  longer  heard. 

3  He  call'd  aloud — "  Say,  father,  say 
If  yet  my  task  is  done  ?" 
He  knew  not  that  the  chieftain  lay 
Unconscious  of  his  son. 


*  Youno^  Casabianca,  a  boy  about  thirteen  years  old,  son  to  the 
admiral  of  tho  Orient,  remained  at  his  post  (in  the  battle  of  the 
Nile,)  after  the  ship  had  taken  fire,  and  all  the  guns  had  been 
abandoned;  and  perished  in  the  explosion  of  the  vessel,  when  the 
flames  had  reached  the  powder. 


284  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  44. 

4  **  Speak,  Father  !"  once  again  he  cried, 

"  If  I  may  yet  be  gone  !" 
— And  but  the  booming  shots  replied, 
And  fast  the  flames  roiled  on. 

5  They  wrapt  the  ship  in  splendour  wild, 

They  caught  the  flag  on  high, 
And  streamed  above  the  gallant  child, 
Like  banners  in  the  sky. 

6  There  came  a  burst  of  thunder  sound — 

The  boy — oh  !  where  was  he  ? 
— Ask  of  the  winds  that  far  around 
With  fragments  strewed  the  sea  ! 

7  With  mast,  and  helm,  and  pennon  fair, 

That  well  had  borne  their  part — 
But  the  noblest  thing  that  perish'd  there, 
AVas  that  young  faithful  heart. 

Mrs.  Hemans, 

44.         Fitz  James  and  Roderick  Dhu, 

With  cautious  step,  and  ear  awake, 

He  climbs  the  crag,  and  threads  the  brake  ; 

And  not  the  summer  solstice,  there, 

Temper'd  the  midnight  mountain  air, 
5       But  every  breeze  that  swept  the  wold, 

Benumbed  his  drenched  limbs  with  cold. 

In  dread,  in  danger,  and  alone, 

Famish'd  and  chilled,  through  ways  unknown, 

Tangled  and  steep,  he  journeyed  on  ; 
10     Till,  as  a  rock's  huge  point  he  turned, 

A  watch-fire  close  before  him  burned. 

Beside  its  embers  red  and  clear. 

Basked,  in  his  plaid,  a  mountaineer  ; 

And  up  he  sprung  with  sword  in  hand, — 
15     "  Thy  name  and  purpose  !  Saxon,  stand  !" — 

"  A  stranger." — "What  dost  thou  require  ?" — 

«*  Rest  and  a  guide,  and  food  and  fire. 

My  life's  beset,  my  path  is  lost. 

The  gale  has  chilled  my  limbs  with  frost." — 


•I 


Ex.  45.]  FAMILIAR  PIECES.  285 

20     "Art  thou  a  friend  to  Roderick  ?"— ''No/' 
"Thou  darest  not  call   thyself  a  foe  ?" — 
"1  dare  !  to  him  and  all  the  band 
He  brings  to  aid  his  murderous  hand." — 
'*Bold  words  ! — but,  though  the   beast  of  game 

25     The    privilege  of  chase  may  claim, 

Though  space  and  law  the  stag  we  lend, 
Ere  hound  we  slip,  or  bow  w^e   bend, 
Who  ever  reck'd,  where,   how,  or  when, 
The  prowling  fox   was  trapped  or  slain ! 

30     Thus  treacherous  scouts, — yet  sure  they  lie, 
Who  say  thou  camest  a  secret  spy  !" — 
'*They  do,  by  heaven  ! — Come   Roderick  Dhu 
And  of  his  clan   the   boldest  two, 
And  let  me   but  till   morning  rest 

35     I  write  the   falsehood  on  their  crest." — 
'*If  by  the  blaze  I  mark   aright. 
Thou  bear'st  the  belt  and   spur  of  Knight." 
"Then,  by  these  tokens  may'st  thou  know, 
Each  proud  oppressor's  mortal   foe." — 

40     "Enough,  enough  ;  sit  down  and   share 

A  soldier's  couch,  a  soldier's  fare."  Scott, 

45.         Address  to  the  Mummy. 

1  And  thou  hast  walk'd  about   (how  strange  a  story  !) 

In  Thebes's  streets  three  thousand  years  ago, 
When  the   Memnonium  was  in  all  its  glory. 

And  time  had   not   begun  to  overthrow 
Those  temples,  palaces,  and  piles  stupendous, 
Of  which   the  very  ruins  are  tremendous. 

2  Speak!  for  thou   long  enough   hast  acted   Dummy, 

Thou   hast  a  tongue — come  let  us  hear  its  tune  : 
Thou'rt  standing  on  thy  legs,  above  ground,  Mummy  ! 

Revisiting  the  glimpses  of  the   moon, 
Not  like  thin  ghosts  or  disembodied   creatures, 
But  with  thy  bones  and  flesh,  and  limbs  and   features. 

3  Tell  us — for  doubtless  thou  canst    recollect, 

To  whom  should  we   assign  the   sphinx's  fame? 
Was  Cheops  or  Ccphrenes  architect 


286  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  45. 

Of  either  Pyramid  that  bears  his  name? 
Is  Pompey's  pillar  really  a  misnomer  ? 
Had  Thebes  a  hundred  gates,  as  sung  by  Homer  ? 

4  Perhaps  thou  wort  a   Mason,   and   forbidden 

By  oath  to  tell  the   mysteries  of  thy  trade ; 
Then  say  what  secret   melody   was   hidden 

In  Memnon's  statue  which  at  sunrise  played  ? 
Perhaps  thou  wert  a  Priest — if  so,  my  struggles 
Are  vain  ; — Egyptian  priests  ne'er  owned  their  juggles. 

5  Perchance  that  very   hand,  now  pinioned  flat. 

Has  hob-a-nobb'd  with  Pharaoh  glass  to  glass  ; 
Or   dropped  a    halfpenny  in  Homer's  hat, 

Or  doffed  thine  own  to  let  Queen   Dido  pass, 
Or  held,  by   Solomon's  own   invitation, 
A  torch  at  the  great  Temple's  dedication. 

6  I  need  not  ask  thee  if  that  hand,   when  armed, 

Has  any  Roman   soldier  mauled   and  knuckled, 
For  thou  wert  dead,  and  buried,   and  embalmed, 

Ere   Romulus    and   Remus   had   been  suckled : — 
Antiquity  appears   to  have  begun 
Long  after  thy  primeval  race  was  run. 

7  Since  first  thy  form  was  in  this  box  extended, 

We  have,  above  ground,  seen  some  strange  mutations ; 
The  Roman  empire  has  begurt  and  ended  ; 

New  worlds  have  risen — we  have  lost  old  nations, 
And  countless  kings  have  into  dust  been  humbled, 
While  not  a  fragment  of  thy  flesh  has  crumbled. 

8  Didst  thou  not  hear  the  pother  o'er  thy  head 

When  the  great  Persian  conquerer,  Cambyses, 
March'd  armies  o'er  thy  tomb  with  thundering  tread, 

O'erthrew  Osiris,  Orus,  Apis,  Isis, 
And  shook  the  Pyramids  with  fear  and  wonder, 
When  the  gigantic  Memnon  fell  asunder  ? 

9  If  the  tomb's  secrets  may  not  be  confessed, 

The  nature  of  thy  private  life  unfold  : — 
A  heart  has  throbb'd  beneath  that  leathern  breast, 
And  tears  adown  that  dusky  cheek  have  rolled  ;-^ 


Ex.  46.]  FAMILIAR  PIECES.  287 

Have  children  climbM  those  knees,  and  kissed  that  face? 
What  was  thy  name  and  station,  age  and  race  ? 

10  Statue  of  flesh — immortal  of  the  dead  ! 

Imperishable  type  of  evanescence  ! 
Posthumous  man,  who  quitt'st  thy  narrow  bed, 

And  standest  undecayed  within  our  presence, 
Thou  wilt  hear  nothing  till  the  Judgment  morning, 
When  the  great  trump  shall  thrill  thee  with  its  warning. 

11  Why  should  this  worthless  tegament  endure, 

If  its  undying  guest  be  lost  forever  ? 
O  let  us  keep  the  soul  embalmed  and  pure 

In  living  virtue ;  that  when  both  must  sever, 
Although  corruption  may  our  frame  consume, 
Th'  immortal  spirit  in  the  skies  may  bloom. 

46.  Othello  and  lago, 

lago.  My  noble  lord 

Oth.  What  dost  thou  say,  lago  1 
lago.  Did  Michael  Cassio,  when  you  wooed  my  lady, 
Know  of  your  love  ? 
5       Oth.  He  did,  from  first  to  last.     Why  dost  thou  ask  ? 
lago.  But  for  a  satisfaction  of  my  thought  ; 
No  further  harm. 

Oth.  Why  of  thy  thought,  lago  1 
lago.  I  did  not  think,  he  had  been  acquainted  with  her. 
10       Oth.  O,  yes  ;  and  went  between  us  very  oft. 
lago.  Indeed  1 

Oth,  Indeed  !  ay,  indeed  : — Discern' st  thou  aught  ia 
that  ? 
Is  he  not  honest  1 
15       logo.  Honest,  my  lord  ? 
Oth.  Ay,  honest. 

lago.  My  lord,  for  aught  I  know. 
Oth.  What  dost  thou  think  I  v 

lago.  Think,  my  lord  1 
20       Oth.  Think,  my  lord  !     Why,  thou  echo'st  me, 
As  if  there  were  some  monster  in  thy  thought 
Too  hideous  to  be  shown.    Thou  dost  mean  something  ^ 


288  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  40. 

I  heard  thee  say  but  now,  ''  thou  Jik'dst  not  that," 

When  Cassio  left  my  wife.     What  didst  not  like  ? 

25  And,  when  I  told  thee,  he  was  of  my  counsel 

In  my  whole  course  of  wooing,  thou  criedst,  "  Indeed!" 
And  didst  contract  and  purse  thy  brow  together, 
As  if  thou  then  hadst  shut  up  in  thy  brain 
Some  horrible  conceit.     If  thou  dost  love  me, 

30  Show  me  thy  thought. 

lago.  My  lord,  you  know  I  love  you. 
Oth.  I  think,  thou  dost  : 

And,  for  I  know  thou  art  full  of  love  and  honesty, 
And  weigh'st  thy  words  before  thou  giv'st  them  breath, 

35  Therefore  these  stops  of  thine  fright  me  the  more  ; 
For  such  things,  in  a  false,  disloyal  knave, 
Are  tricks  of  custom  ;  but,  in  a  man  that's  just. 
They  are  close  denotements  working  from  the  heart, 
That  passion  cannot  rule. 

40       logo.  For  Michael  Cassio, 

I  dare  be  sworn,  I  think  that  he  is  honest. 
Oth,  I  think  so  too. 
Idgo,  Men  should  be  what  they  seem  ; 
Or,  those  that  be  not,  'would  they  might  seem  none ! 

45       Oth.  Certain,  men  should  be  what  they  seem. 

lago.  Why  then,  I  think  that  Cassio  is  an  honest  man. 
Oth.  Nay,  yet  there's  more  in  this  : 
I  pray  thee,  speak  to  me  as  to  thy  thinkings. 
As  thou  dost  ruminate  ;  and  give  thy  worst  of  thoughts 

50  The  worst  of  words. 

lago.  Good,  my  lord,  pardon  me ; 
Though  I  am  bound  to  every  act  of  duty, 
I  am  not  bound  to  that  all  slaves  are  free  to. 
Utter  my  thoughts  ? — Why,  say,  they  are  vile  andfalse ; 

55  As  Where's  that  palace,  whereinto  foul  things 

Sometimes  intrude  not  ?     Wlio  has  a  breast  so  pure, 
But  some  uncleanly  apprehensions 

,       Keep  leets,  and  law-days,  and  in  sessions  sit 

With  meditations  lawful  ?  Shakspeare. 


Ex.  47.]  FAMILIAR  PIECES.  289 

47.  Macduff, 

Macd.  See,  who  comes  here  ? 
MaL  My  countryman  ;  but  yet  I  know  him  not. 
Macd.  My  ever  gentle  cousin,  welcome  hither. 
Mai.  I  know  him  now.    Pray  heaven,  betimes  remove 
5  The  means,  that  make  us  strangers  ! 
Rosse.  Sir,  Amen. 

3Iacd,  Stands  Scotland  where  it  did  ? 
Rosse.  Alas,  poor  country; 
Almost  afraid  to  know  itself!     It  cannot 
10  Be  called  our  mother,  but  our  grave  ;  where  nothing, 
But  who  knows  nothing,  is  once  seen  to  smile  ; 
Where  sighs,  and  groans,  and  shrieks  that  rent  the  air, 
Are  made,  not  marked  ;  where  violent  sorrow  seems 
A  modern  ecstasy  ;  the  dead  man's  knell 
15  Is  there  scarce  asked,  for  whom ;  and  good  men's  lives 
Expire  before  the  flowers  in  their  caps, 
Dying,  or  e'er  they  sicken. 

Macd,  O,  relation, 
Too  nice,  and  yet  too  true  ! 
20       MaL  What  is  the  newest  grief? 

Rosse.  That  of  an  hour's  age  doth  hiss  the  speaker. 
Each  minute  teems  a  new  one. 
Macd,  How  does  my  wife  ? 
Rosse.  Why,  well. 
25       Macd.  And  all  my  children  ? 
Rosse.  Well  too. 

Macd.  The  tyrant  has  not  battered  at  their  peace  ? 
Rosse,  No  ;  they  were  well  at  peace,  when  I  did  leave 

them. 
Macd.  Be  not  a  niggard  of  your  speech  ;  how  goes  it  ? 

30       Rosse. I  have  words, 

That  would  be  howled  out  in  the  desert  air, 
Where  hearing  should  not  latch  them. 

Macd.  What  concern  they  ? 
The  general  cause  ?  or  is  it  a  fee-grief, 
35  Due  to  some  single  breast  1 

Rosse.  No  mind,  that's  honest. 
But  in  it  shares  some  woe  ;  though  the  main  part 
Pertains  to  you  alone. 
25 


290  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  48. 

3facd.  If  it  be  mine, 
40  Keep  it  not  from  me,  quickly  let  me  have  it. 

Rosse.  Let  not  your  ears  despise  my  tongue  forever, 
Which  shall  possess  them  with  the  heaviest  sound 
That  ever  yet  they  heard. 
Macd.  Ah  !  I  guess  at  it. 
45       Rosse.  Your  castle  is  surprised  ;  your  wife  and  babes 
Savagely  slaughtered  :  to  relate  the  manner, 
Were,  on  the  quarry  of  these  murdered  deer, 
To  add  the  death  of  you. 
Mai.  Merciful  heaven  ! 
50  What,  man  !  ne'er  pull  your  hat  upon  your  brows ; 
Give  sorrow  words  :  the  grief,  that  does  not  speak, 
Whispers  the  o'er-fraught  heart,  and  bids  it  break. 
Macd,  My  children  too  ? — 

Rosse,  Wife,    children,    servants,   all  that  could   be 
found. 
55       Macd,  And  I  must  be  from  thence  !  my  wife  killed 
too? 
Rosse.  I  have  said. 
3IaI,  Be  comforted  : 
Let's  make  us  medicines  of  our  great  revenge, 
To  cure  this  deadly  grief. 
00       Macd,  I  shall  do  so  ; 

But  I  must  also  feel  it  as  a  man. 
I  cannot  but  remember  such  things  were. 
That  were  most  precious  to  me.    Did  heaven  look  on, 
And  would  not  take  their  part  1  Sinful  Macduff, 
65  They  were  all  struck  for  thee !  naught  that  I  am, 
Not  for  their  own  demerits,  but  for  mine, 
Fell  slaughter  on  their  souls.     Heaven  rest  them  now  ! 

Shakspeare, 

48.         William   Tell. 

Getler,  the  tyrant,  Sarnem,  his  officer,  and  William  Toll,  a  Swiss  peasant. 

Sar.  Down,  slave,  upon  thy  knees  before  the  governor, 
And  beg  for  mercy. 

Ges,  Does  he  hear  7 

Sar.  He  does,  but  braves  thy  power.  [To  Tell] 
Down,  slave, 
And  ask  for  life. 


Ex.  48.]  FAMILIAR  PIECES.  291 

5         Ges.  [To  Tell]   Why  speakest  thou  not? 
Tell  For  Wonder. 
Ges.  Wonder  1 

Tell.  Yes,  that  thou   shouldst  seem  a  man. 
Ges.  What  should   I   seem  1 
10  Tell,  A   monster. 

Ges.  Ha  !    Beware  ! — think  on   thy  chains. 
Tell,  Though  they  were  doubled,  and  did  weigh  me 
down 
Prostrate   to  earth,   methinks  I   could   rise  up 
Erect,  with  nothing   but  the   honest  pride 
15     Of  telling  thee,   usurper,  to  thy   teeth, 

Thou   art  a  monster. — Think  on  my  chains  ! 
How  came  they  on  me  ? 

Ges,  Barest  thou  question  me? 
Tell.  Barest  thou  answer  ? 
20         Ges.  Beware   my   vengeance. 
Tell,  Can  it  more  than  kill  ? 
Ges.  And  is  not  that  enough  ? 
T'ell.  No,  not  enough  : — 
It  cannot  take  away  the  grace  of  life — 
25     The  comeliness  of  look  that  virtue  gives — 
Its  port  erect,  with  consciousness  of  truth — ' 
Its  rich  attire  of  honourable  deeds — 
Its  fair  report  that's  rife  on   good   men's  tongues : — 
It  cannot  lay  its  hand   on  these,  no  more 
30     Than  it  can  pluck  his   brightness  from  the  sun, 
Or  with  polluted  finger  tarnish  it. 
Ges,  But  it  can   make  thee  writhe. 
Tell.  It   may,  and  I   may  say. 
Go  on,  though  it  should  make  me  groan   again. 
35         Ges,  Whence  comest  thou? 
Tell.  From   the   mountains. 
Ges,  Canst  tell  me  any   news  from  them  ? 
Tell,  Ay  ; — they  watch  no   more  the  avalanche. 
Ges.  Why  so? 
40  Tell,  Because  they  look  for  thee.     The   hurricane 

Comes    unawares   upon  them  ;  from   its  bed 
The  torrent   breaks,  and  finds  them  in  its  track. 
Ges.  What  then? 


292  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  48. 

45  Tell.  They  thank  kind   Providence  it  is  not  thou.  * 

Thou  hast  perverted   nature  in   them.     The  earth 
Presents  her   fruits  to  them,   and  is  not  thanked. 
The  harvest   sun  is  constant,   and  they  scarce 
Return  his  smile.     Their   flocks  and  herds  increase, 
50     And  they  look  on  as  men   who  count  a  loss. 

There's  not  a  blessing  Heaven  vouchsafes  them,  but 
The   thought  of  thee   doth  wither  to  a  curse, 
As  something  they  must  lose,  and  had  far  better 
Lack. 
55         Gen,  'Tis  well.     I'd  have  them  as   their   hills 
That  never  smile,  though  wanton  summer  tempt 
Them  e'er  so  much. 

Tell.  But  they  do  sometimes  smile. 
Ges.  Ah  ! — when  is  that  ? 
60         Tell,  When  they  do  pray  for  vengeance. 
Ces.  Dare  they    pray   for  that  1 
Tell  They  dare,  and  they  expect  it,  too. 
Ges,  From   whence  ? 

Tellf  From  Heaven,  and  their  true  hearts. 
Ges.  [To  Sarnem,]  Lead  in  his  son.  Now  will  I  take 
Exquisite  vengeance.  [  To  Tell,  as  the  hoy  enters.]  I  have 
destined  him 
To  die  along    with  thee. 

Tell.  To  die  !   for  what  ?  he's  but  a  child. 
70         Ges.  He's  thine,   however. 
Tell.  He  is  an  only   child. 
Ges.  So  much  the  easier  to  crush  the  race. 
Tell.  He  may  have  a  mother. 
Ges.  So  the  viper  hath — 
75     And  yet   who  spares  it  for  the  mother's  sake  '\ 

Tell  I  talk  to    stone.     I'll  talk  to  it  no  more. 
Come,  my  boy,  I  taught  thee  how  to  live, — 
I'll  teach   thee — how  to  die. 
Ges.  But  first,  I'd  see  thee  make 
80     A  trial  of  thy  skill  with  that  same  bow. 
Thy  arrows  never  miss,  'tis  said. 
Tell  What  is  the  trial  ? 

Ges.  Thou  look'st  upon  thy  boy  as  though  thou  gues- 
sest  it. 
85         Tell  Look  upon  my  boy  !  What  mean  you  ? 


Ex  48.]  FAMILIAR  PIECES.      ^^^£w^  T  V        ^^^    " 

Look  upon  my  boy  as  though  I  guessed  it ! — 
Guessed  the  trial  thou'dst  have  me  make ! — 
Guessed  it  instinctively !  Thou  dost  not  raean-«- 
No,  no — Thou  wouldst  not  have  me  make 
90  A  trial  of  my  skill  upon  my  child  ! 

Impossible  !  I  do  not  guess  thy  meaning. 

Ges.  I'd  see  thee  hit  an  apple  on  his  head, 
Three  hundred  paces  off. 
TelL  Great  heaven  ! 
95       GeSo  On  this  condition  only  will  I  spare 
His  life  and  thine. 

Tell.  Ferocious  monster  !  make  a  father 
Murder  his  own  child  ! 
Ges,  Dost  thou  consent  ? 

100      Tell  With  his  own  hand  ! 

The  hand  Fve  led  him  when  an  infant  by ! 
My  hands  are  free  from  blood,  and  have  no  gust 
For  it,  that  they  should  drink  my  child's. 
I'll  not  murder  my  boy  for  Gesler. 
105     Boy,  You  will  not  hit  me,  father.     You'll  be  sure 
To  hit  the  apple.     Will  you  not  save  me,  father  ? 
Tell.  Lead  me  forth — I'll  make  the  trial. 

Boy.  Father 

Tell.  Speak  not  to  me  ; — 
110  Let  me  not  hear  thy  voice — Thou  must  be  dumb, 
And  so  should  all  things  be — Earth  should  be  dumb. 
And  Heaven,  unless  its  thunder  muttered  at 
The  deed,  and  sent  a  bolt  to  stop  it. — 
Give  me  my  bow  and  quiver. 
115       Ges,  When  all  is  ready.     Sarnem,  measure  hence 
The  distance — three  hundred  paces. 
Tell  Will  he  do  it  fairly  ? 
Ges.  What  is't  to  thee,  fairly  or  not  ? 
Tell  {sarcastically.']  O,  nothing,  a  little  thing, 
120  A  very  little  thing,  I  only  shoot 
At  my  child  ! 

[Sarnem  prepares  to  measure.] 
Tell  Villain,  stop  !  You  measure  against  the  sun. 
Ges.  And  what  of  that? 
125  What  matter  whether  to  or  from  the  sun  ? 
25* 


294  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  48, 

Tell.  I'd  have  it  at  my  back.  The  sun  should  shine 
Upon  the  mark,  and  not  on  him  that  shoots — 
I  will  not  shoot  against  the  sun. 

6rc5.  Give  him  his  way.  [Sarnem  paces  and  goes  out.] 
130        Tell.  I  should  like  to  see  the  apple  I  must  hit. 

Ges.  [Picks  out  the  smallest  one  J]  There,  take  that. 
Tell.  You've  picked  the  smallest  one. 
Ges.  I  know  I  have.     Thy  skill  will  be 
The  greater  if  thou  hittest  it. 
135        Tell,  [sarcastically.']  True — true  1    I  did  not  think 
of  that. 
I  wonder  I  did  not  think  of  that.     A  larger  one 
Had  given  me  a  chance  to  save  my  boy. — 
Give  me  my  bow.     Let  me  see  my  quiver. 
140       Ges.  Give  him  a  single  arrow,   [to  an  attendant.] 
[  Tell  looks  at  it  and  breaks  it.] 
Tell.  Let  me  see  my  quiver.     It  is  not 
One  arrow  in  a  dozen  I  would  use 
To  shoot  with  at  a  dove,  much  less  a  dove 
145  Like  that. 

Ges.  Show  him  the  quiver. 
[Sarnem  returns   and  takes  the  apple  and  the  hoy  to 
place  them.     While  this  is  doing,  Tell  conceals  an  ar- 
row under  his  garment.     He  then  selects  another  ar- 
150     row  and  says] 

Tell.  Is  the  boy  ready  ?     Keep  silence  now 
For  Heaven's  sake,  and  be  my  witnesses, 
That  if  his  life's  in  peril  from  my  hand, 
'Tis  only  for  the  chance  of  saving  it. 
155  For  mercy's  sake  keep  motionless  and  silent. 

[He  aims  and  shoots  in  the  direction  of  the  hoy.    In  a 
moment  Sarnem  enters  with  the  apple  on  the  arrow's 
point.] 
Sarnem.  The  boy  is  safe. 
160        Tell.  [Raising  his  arms.]  Thank  Heaven  ! 

[^5  he  raises  his  arms  the  concealed  arrow  falls.] 
Ges.  [Picking  it  up.]  Unequalled  archer  !  why  was 

this  concealed. 
Tell  To  kill  thee,  tyrant,  had  I  slain  my  boy. 


Ex.  49,  50.]  FAMILIAR    PIECES.  295" 

49.  Nathan's  parable. 

And  the  Lord  sent  Nathan  unto  David  ;  and  he  went 
unto  him,  and  said  unto  him, 

"  There  were  two  men  in  one  city  ;  the  one  rich,  and 
the  other  poor.  The  rich  man  had  exceeding  many 
5  flocks  and  herds :  But  the  poor  man  had  nothing  save 
one  little  ewe  lamb,  which  he  had  bought,  and  nourished 
up  ;  and  it  grew  up  together  with  him,  and  with  his 
children  ;  it  did  eat  of  his  own  meat,  and  drank  his  own 
cup,  and  lay  in  his  bosom,  and  was  unto  him  as  a  daugh- 
10  ter. 

"  And  there  came  a  traveller  unto  the  rich  man,  and 

he  spared  to  take  of  his  own  flock  and  of  his  own  herd, 

to  dress  for  the  way-faring  man  that  was  come  unto  him  ; 

but  took  the  poor  man's  lamb,  and  dressed   it  for  the 

15  man  that  was  come  unto  him." 

And  David's  anger   was  greatly  kindled  against  the 
man  ;  and  he  said  to  Nathan, 

"  As  the  Lord  liveth,  the  man  that  hath  done  this 
thing  shall  surely  die :  And   he  shall   restore  the  lamb 
*70  fourfold,  because  he  did  this  thing,  and  because  he  had 
no  pity." 

And  Nathan  said  unto  David,  *'  Thou  art  the  man." 

50.         Harmony  among  brethren. 

Two  brothers,  named  Timon  and  Demetrius,  having 
quarrelled  with  each  other,  Socrates,  their  common 
friend,  was  solicitious  to  restore  amity  between  them. 
Meeting,  therefore,  with  Demetrius,  he  thus  accosted 
5  him :  "  Is  not  friendship  the  sweetest  solace  in  adver- 
sity, and  the  greatest  enhancement  of  the  blessings  of 
prosperity  ?"  ''  Certainly  it  is,"  replied  Demetrius ; 
*'  because  our  sorrows  are  diminished,  and  our  joys  in- 
creased, by  sympathetic  participation."  "  Amongst 
10  whom,  then,  must  we  look  for  a  friend  ?"  said  Socrates: 
"  Would  you  search  among  strangers?  They  cannot 
be  interested  about  you.  Amongst  your  rivals  ?  They 
have  an  interest  in  opposition  to  yours.  Amongst  those 
who  are  much  older,  or  younger  than  yourself?     Their 


296  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  50. 

20  feelings  and  pursuits  will  be  widely  different  from  yours. 
Are  there  not,  then,  some  circumstances  favourable, 
and  others  essential,  to  the  formation  of  friendship  ?" 
"  Undoubtedly  there  are,"  answered  Demetrius.  "  May 
we  not  enumerate,"  continued  Socrates,  "  amongst  the 

555  circumstances  favourable  to  friendship,  long  acquain- 
tance, common  connexions,  similitude  of  age,  and  union 
of  interest?"  ^'  I  acknowledge,"  said  Demetrius,  "the 
powerful  influence  of  these  circumstances :  but  they 
may  subsist,  and  yet  others  be  wanting,   that  are  essen- 

30  tial  to  mutual  amity."  **  And  what,"  said  Socrates,  *'are 
those  essentials  which  are  wanting  in  Timon  ?"  "  He 
has  forfeited  my  esteem  and  attachment,"  answered 
Demetrius.  ''  And  has  he  also  forfeited  the  esteem  and 
attachment  of  the  rest  of  mankind  ?"   continued  Socra- 

35  tes.  '*  Is  he  devoid  of  benevolence,  generosity,  grati- 
tude, and  other  social  affections  ?"  **  Far  be  it  from 
me,"  cried  Demetrius,  ''to  lay  so  heavy  a  charge  upon 
him.  His  conduct  to  others,  is,  I  believe,  irreproacha- 
ble ;  and  it  wounds  me  the  more,  that  he   should  single 

40  me  out  as  the  object  of  his  unkindness."  "  Suppose 
you  have  a  very  valuable  horse,"  resumed  Socrates, 
"  gentle  under  the  treatment  of  others,  but  ungoverna- 
ble, when  you  attempt  to  use  him  ;  would  you  not  en- 
deavour, by  all   means,  to  conciliate  his  affection,  and 

45  to  treat  him  in  the  way  most  likely  to  render  him  trac- 
table ? — Or,  if  you  have  a  dog,  highly  prized  for  his 
fidelity,  watchfulness,  and  care  of  your  flocks,  who  is 
fond  of  your  shepherds,  and  playful  with  them,  and  yet 
snarles  whenever  you  come  in  his  way ;  would  you   at- 

50  tempt  to  cure  him  of  his  fault,  by  angry  looks  or  words, 
or  by  any  other  marks  of  resentment?  You  would  sure- 
ly pursue  an  opposite  course  with  him.  And  is  not  the 
friendship  of  a  brother  of  far  more  worth,  than  the  ser- 
vices of  a  horse,  or  the   attachment  of  a  dog  ?    Why, 

55  then,  do  you  delay  to  put  in  practice  those  means,  which 
may  reconcile  you  to  Timon  ?"  **  Acquaint  me  with 
those  meang,"  answered  Demetrius,  "  for  I  am  a  stran- 
ger to  them."  '*  Answer  me  a  few  questions,"  said  So- 
crates.    *'If  you  desire,  that  one  of  your  neighbours 


Ex.   51.]  FAMILIAR  PIECES.  29t 

60  should  invite  you  to  his  feast,  when  he  offers  a  sacrifice, 
what  course  would  you  take?" — "I  would  first  invite 
him  to  mine."  "  And  how  would  you  induce  him  to 
take  the  charge  of  your  affairs,  when  you  are  on  a  jour- 
ney ?" — "  I   should   be  forward  to  do  the   same  good 

65  office  to  him,  in  his  absence.''  '*If  you  be  solicitous 
to  remove  a  prejudice,  which  he  may  have  received 
against  you,  how  would  you  then  behave  towards  him  1" 
— '*  I  should  endeavour  to  convince  him,  by  my  looks, 
words,  and  actions,  that  such  prejudice  was  ill-founded." 

70  "  And  if  he  appeared  inclined  to  reconciliation,  would 
you  reproach  him  with  the  injustice  he  had  done  you  ?" 
— ''  No,"  answered  Demetrius  ;  "  I  would  repeat  no 
grievances."  *'  Go,"  said  Socrates,  ''  and  pursue  that 
conduct  towards  your  brother,  which   you  would  prac- 

75  tise  to  a  neighbour.  His  friendship  is  of  inestimable 
worth  ;  and  nothing  is  more  lovely  in  the  sight  of  Heav- 
en, than  for  brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity." 

Percival. 

51.         Hca^ht/s  Death. 

"  There  are  some  remembrances  (said  Harley)  which 
rise  involuntarily  on  my  heart,  and  make  me  almost 
wish  to  live.  I  have  been  blessed  with  a  few  friends, 
who  redeem  my  opinion  of  mankind.     I  recollect,  with 

•>  the  tenderest  emotion,  the  scenes  of  pleasure  I  have 
passed  among  them — but  we  shall  meet  aaain,  my  friend, 
never  to  be  separated.  There  are  some  feelings  which 
perhaps  are  too  tender  to  be  suffered  by  the  world.  The 
world,  in  general,  is  selfish,  interested,  and  unthinking, 

10  and  throws  the  imputation  of  romance,  or  melancholy, 
on  every  temper  more  susceptible  than  its  own.  I  can- 
not but  think,  in  those  regions  which  I  contemplate,  if 
there  is  any  thing  of  mortality  left  about  us,  that  these 
feelings   will   subsist : — they  are  called — perhaps  they 

15  are — weaknesses,  here  ; — but  there  may  be  some  better 
modifications  of  them  in  heaven,  which  may  deserve  the 
name  of  virtues."  He  sighed,  as  he  spoke  these  last 
words.  He  had  scarcely  finished  them,  when  the  door 
opened,  and  his  aunt  appeared,  leading  in  Miss  Walton. 


298  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  51. 

20  **  My  dear  (says  she)  here  is  Miss  Walton,  who  has 
been  so  kind  as  to  come  and  inquire  for  you  herself.'* 
I  could  perceive  a  transient  glow  upon  his  face.  He 
rose  from  his  seat. — "  If  to  know  Miss  Walton's  good- 
ness (said  he)  be  a  title  to  deserve   it,   I   have  some 

25  claim."  She  begged  him  to  resume  his  seat,  and  plac- 
ed herself  on  the  sofa  beside  him.  I  took  my  leave. 
His  aunt  accompanied  me  to  the  door.  He  was  left 
with  Miss  Walton  alone.  She  inquired  anxiously  after 
his   health.     "  I   believe  (said  he)   from  the  accounts 

30  which  my  physicians  unwillingly  give  me,  that  they  have 
no  great  hopes  of  my  recovery." — She  started,  as  he 
spoke  ;  but,  recollecting  herself  immediately,  endeav- 
oured to  flatter  him  into  a  belief,  that  his  apprehensions 
were  groundless.     *'  I  know  (said   he)  that  it  is  usual 

35  with  persons  at  my  time  of  life,  to  have  these  hopes 
which  your  kindness  suggests  ;  but  I  would  not  wish  to 
be  deceived.  To  meet  death  as  becomes  a  man,  is  a 
privilege  bestowed  on  few  :  I  would  endeavour  to  make 
it  r^ATi?.  t — nor  do  i  think,  that  I  can  ever  be  better  pre- 

40  pared  for  it  than  now  : — 'tis  that  chiefly,  which  deter- 
mines the  fitness  of  its  approach."  ''Those  sentiments," 
answered  Miss  Walton,  "  are  just;  but  your  good  sense, 
Mr.  Harley,  will  own,  that  life  has  its  proper  value. — 
As  the  province  of  virtue,  life  is  ennobled  ;  as  such,  it 

45  is  to  be  desired. — To  virtue  has  the  Supreme  Director 
of  all  things  assigned  rewards  enough,  even  here,  to  fix 
its  attachments." 

The  subject  began  to  overpower  her. — Harley  lifted 
up  his  eyes  from  the  ground — "  There  are  (said  he, 
in  a  low  voice) — there  are  attachments,   Miss  Walton." 

50  — His  glance  met  hers — they  both  betrayed  a  confu- 
sion, and  were  both  instantly  withdrawn. — He  paused 
some  moments. — "  I  am  (he  said)  in  such  a  state  as 
calls  for  sincerity  :  let  that  alone  excuse  it — it  is,  per- 
haps, the  last  time  we  shall  ever  meet.     I   feel  some- 

55  thing  particularly  solemn  in  the  acknowledgment ;  yet 
my  heart  swells  to  make  it,  awed  as  it  is  by  a  sense  of 
my  presumption, — by  a  sense  of  your  perfections." — He 
paused  again — *'  Let  it  not  offend  you,   (he  resumed,) 


II 


Ex.  52.]  FAMILIAR  PIECES.  299 

to  know  their  power  over  one   so  unworthy.     My  heart 

60  will,  I  believe,  soon  cease  to  beat,  even  with  that  feel- 
ing which  it  shall  lose  the  latest. — To  love  Miss  Walton 
could  not  be  a  crime. — If  to  declare  it  is  one,  the  ex- 
piation will  be  made."  Her  tears  were  now  flowing 
without  control. — ''  Let  me  entreat  you   (said  she)   to 

65  have  better  hopes — let  not  life  be  so  indifferent  to  you ; 
if  my  wishes  can  put  any  value  upon  it — I  will  not  pre- 
tend to  misunderstand  you — I  know  your  worth — I  have 
long  known  it — I  have  esteemed  it — what  would  you 
have  me  say  ? — I   have  loved   it,  as  it  deserved  !"     He 

70  seized  her  hand  : — a  languid  colour  reddened  his  cheek 
— a  smile  brightened  faintly  in  his  eye.  As  he  gazed 
on  her,  it  grew  dim,  it  fixed,  it  closed — he  sighed,  and 
fell  back  on  his  seat — Miss  Walton  screamed  at  the 
sight — his  aunt  and  the  servants  rushed  into  the  room 

75  — they  found  them  lying  motionless  together. — His  phy- 
sician happened  to  call  at  that  instant — every  art  was 
tried  to  recover  them — with  Miss  Walton  they  succeed- 
ed— but  Harley  was  gone  for  ever. 

Mackenzie. 

52.  To-Morrow. 

To-morrow,  didst  thou  say  ? 
Methought  I  heard  Horatio  say,  To-morrow. 
Go  to — I  will  not  hear  of  it — To-morrow. 
'Tis  a  sharper,  who  stakes  his  penury 
5     Against  thy  plenty — who  takes  thy  ready  cash, 

And  pays  thee  nought  but  wishes,  hopes  and  promises, 
The  currency  of  idiots — injurious  bankrupt, 
That  gulls  the  easy  creditor  ! — To-morrow ! 
It  is  a  period  no  where  to  be  found 

10     In  all  the  hoary  registers  of  Time, 

Unless,  perchance,  in  the  fool's  calendar. 
Wisdom  disclaims  the  word,  nor  holds  society 
With  those  who  own  it.     No,  my  Horatio, 
'Tis  Fancy's  child,  and  Folly  is  its  father ; 

15     Wrought  of  such  stuff*  as  dreams  are,  and  as  baseless 
As  the  fantastic  visions  of  the  evening. 

But  soft,  my  friend — arrest  the  present  moment  ^ 


300  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  52. 

For  be  assur'd,  they  all  are  arrant  tell-tales  : 
And  though  their  flight  be  silent,  and  their  path 

20     Trackless  as  the  winged  couriers  of  the  air, 

They  post  to  heaven,  and  there  record  thy  folly, 
Because,  though  station'd  on  th'  important  watch, 
Thou,  like  a  sleeping,  faithless  sentinel, 
Didst  let  them  pass  unnotic'd,  unimproved. 

25     And  know,  for  that  thou  slumb'rest  on  the  guard, 
Thou  shalt  be  made  to  answer  at  the  bar 
For  every  fugitive :  and  when  thou  thus 
Shalt  stand  impleaded  at  the  high  tribunal 
Ol  hood-wink'd  Justice,  who  shall  tell  thy  audit? 

30         Then  stay  the  present  instant,  dear   Horatio, 
Imprint  the  marks  of  wisdom  on  its  wings. 
'Tis  of  more  worth  than  kino^doms  !  far  more  precious 
Than  all  the  crimson  treasures  of  life's  fountain. 
O  !  let  it  not  elude  thy  grasp  ;  but,  like 

35     The  good  old  patriarch  upon  record, 

Hold  the  fleet  angel  fast  until  he  bless  thee. 

Cotton. 


t 


I 


SECULAR  ELOQUENCE, 


53.  The  Perfect   Orator. 

Imagine  to  yourselves  a  Demosthenes,  addressing  the 
most  illustrious  assembly  in  the  world,  upon  a  point 
whereon  the  fate  of  the  most  illustrious  of  nations  de- 
pended— How  awful  such  a  meeting  !  how  vast  the  sub- 

o  ject ! — Is  man  possessed  of  talents  adequate  to  the  great 
occasion  1 — Adequate !  Yes,  superior.  By  the  power 
of  his  eloquence,  the  augustness  of  the  assembly  is  lost 
in  the  dignity  of  the  orator  ;  and  the  importance  of  the 
subject,   for  a  while,  superseded  by  the   admiration  of 

10  his  talents.  With  what  strength  of  argument,  with  what 
powers  of  the  fancy,  with  what  emotions  of  the  heart, 
does  he  assault  and  subjugate  the  whole  man  ;  and,  at 
once,  captivate  his  reason,  his  imagination,  and  liis  pas- 
sions ! To  effect  this,  must  be  the  utmost  effort  of 

15  the  most  improved  state  of  human  nature. — Not  a  fac- 
ulty that  he  possesses,  is  here  unemployed  ;  not  a  fac- 
ulty that  he  possesses,  but  is  here  exerted  to  its  highest 
pitch.  All  his  internal  powers  are  at  work  ;  all  his  ex- 
ternal, testify  their  energies.     Within,  the  memory,  the 

20  fancy,  the  judgment,  the  passions,  are  all  busy  :  with- 
out, every  muscle,  every  nerve  is  exerted  ;  not  a  fea- 
ture, not  a  limb,  but  speaks.  The  organs  of  the  body, 
attuned  to  the  exertions  of  the  mind,  through  the  kin- 
dred organs  of  the  hearers,  instantaneously  vibrate  those 

25  energies  from  soul  to  soul.  Notwithstandinop  the  diver- 
sity  of  minds  in  such  a  multitude  ;  by  the  lightning  of 
eloquence,  they  are  melted  into  one  mass — the  whole 
assembly,  actuated  in  one  and  the  same  way,  become, 
as  it  were,  but  one  man,  and  have   but  one  voice — The 

30  universal   cry  is— Let  us  march  against   Philip,  let 

us  FIGHT   FOR  OUR  LIBERTIES LET  US  CONQUER  OR  DIE  ! 

Sheridan, 
2G 


302  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  54,  55. 


54.         Character  of  True  Eloquence* 

When  public  bodies  are  to  be  addressed  on  momen- 
tous occasions,  when  great  interests  are  at  stake,  and 
strong  passions  excited,  nothing  is  valuable,  in  speech, 
farther  than  it  is  connected   with  high   intellectual  and 

5  moral  endowments.  Clearness,  force,  and  earnestness 
are  the  qualities  which  produce  conviction.  True  elo- 
quence, indeed,  does  not  consist  in  speech.  It  cannot 
be  brought  from  far.  Labor  and  learning  may  toil  for 
it,  but  they  will  toil  in   vain,     Words  and   phrases  may 

10  be  marshalled  in  every  way,  but  they  cannot  compass  it. 
It  must  exist  in  the  man,  in  the  subject,  and  in  the  oc- 
casion. Affected  passion,  intense  expression,  the  pomp 
of  declamation,  all  may  aspire  after  it — they  cannot  reach 
it.     It  comes,  if  it  come  at  all,  like  the  outbreaking  of 

15  a  fountain  from  the  earth,  or  the  bursting  forth  of  vol- 
canic fires,  with  spontaneous,  original,  native  force. 
The  graces  taught  in  the  schools,  the  costly  ornaments, 
and  studied  contrivances  of  speech,  shock  and  disgust 
men,  when  their  own  lives,   and  the  fate  of  their  wives^ 

20  their  children,  and  their  country  hang  on  the  decision 
of  the  hour.  Then  words  have  lost  their  power,  rhet- 
oric is  vain,  and  all  elaborate  oratory  contemptible.  E- 
ven  genius  itself  then  feels  rebuked,  and  subdued,  as  in 
the  presence  of  higher  qualities.     Then,   patriotism  is 

25  eloquent;  then,  self  devotion  is  eloquent.  The  clear 
conception,  out-running  the  deductions  of  logic,  the 
high  purpose,  the  firm  resolve,  the  dauntless  spirit, 
speaking  on  the  tongue,  beaming  from  the  eye,  inform- 
ing every  feature,  and   urging  the   whole  man  onward, 

30  right  onward  to  his  object — this,  this  is  eloquence  ;  or 
rather  it  is  something  greater  and  higher  than  all  elo- 
quence, it  is  action,  noble,  sublime,  godlike  action. 

Webster. 

55.  The  Pilgrims, 

From  the  dark  portals  of  the  star  chamber,  and  in 
the  stern  text  of  the  acts  of  uniformity,  the  pilgrims 
received  a  commission,  more  efficient,  than  any  that 


Ex.  55.]  SECULAR   ELOQUENCE.  303 

ever  bore  the  royal   seal.     Their  banishment  to   Hol- 

5  land  was  fortunate  ;  the  decline  of  their  little  company 
in  the  strange  land  was  fortunate  ;  the  difficulties 
which  they  experienced  in  getting  the  royal  consent 
to  banish  themselves  to  this  wilderness  were  fortunate  ; 
all    the  tears    and    heartbreakings  of  that  ever   memo- 

10  rable  parting  at  Delfthaven,  had  the  happiest  influence 
on  the  rising  destinies  of  New  England.  All  this  pu- 
rified the  ranks  of  the  settlers  These  rough  touches 
of  fortune  brushed  off  the  light,  uncertain,  selfish  spir- 
its.    They   made  it  a  grave,  solemn,  self-denying  ex- 

15  pedition,  and  required  of  those  who  engaged  in  it  to  be 
so  too.  They  cast  a  broad  shadow  of  thought  and  seri- 
ousness over  the  cause,  and  if  this  sometimes  deepened 
into  melancholy  and  bitterness,  can  we  find  no  apol- 
ogy for  such  a  human  weakness  ? 

20  Their  trials  of  wandering  and  exile,  of  the  ocean, 
the  winter,  the  wilderness,  and  the  savage  foe,  were 
the  final  assurances  of  success.  It  was  these  that  put 
far  away  from  our  fathers'  cause,  all  patrician  softness, 
all    hereditary   claims  to  preeminence.     No  effeminate 

25  nobility  crowded  into  the  dark  and  austere  ranks  of 
the  pilgrims.  No  Carr  nor  Villiers  would  lead  on  the 
ill  provided  band  of  despised  Puritans.  No  well  endow- 
ed clergy  were  on  the  alert,  to  quit  their  cathedrals, 
and  set  up  a  pompous   hierarchy   in  the  frozen  wilder- 

30  ness.  No  craving  governors  were  anxious  to  be  sent 
over  to  our  cheerless  El  Dorados  of  ice  and  of  snow. 
No,  they  could  not  say  they  had  encouraged,  patronis- 
ed, or  helped  the  pilgrims ;  their  own  cares,  their  own 
labours,  their  own  councils,  their  own  blood,  contrived 

35  all,  achieved  all,  bore  all,  sealed  all.  They  could  not  af- 
terwards fairly  pretend  to  reap  where  they  had  not 
strewn  ;  and  as  our  fathers  reared  this  broad  and  solid 
fabric  with  pains  and  watchfulness,  unaided,  barely 
tolerated,  it  did  not  fall  when  the  favour,  which  had  al- 

40  ways  been  withholden,  was  changed  into  wrath ;  when 
the  arm  which  had  never  supported,  was  raised  to  de- 
stroy. 

Methinks  I  see  it  now,  that  one  solitary,  adventurous 
vessel,  the  Mayflower  of  a   forlorn  hope,  freighted  with 


304  KXRKCisEs.  [Ex.  65. 

45  the  prospects  of  a  future  state,  and  bound  across  the  un* 
known  sea.  I  behold  it  pursuing,  with  a  thousand  mis- 
givings, the  uncertain,  the  tedious  voyage.  Suns  rise 
and  set,  and  weeks,  and  months  pass,  and  winter  sur- 
prises them  on  the  deep,  but    brin^rs  them  not  the  sight 

50  of  the  wished  for  shore.  I  see  them  now  scantily  sup- 
plied with  provisions,  crowded  almost  to  suffocation  in 
their  illstored  prison  ; — delayed  by  calms,  pursuing  a 
circuitous  route, — and  now  driven  in  fury  before  the 
raging  tempest,  on  the  high  and  giddy  waves.     The  aw- 

55  ful  voice  of  the  storm  howls  through  the  rigging.  The 
labouring  masts  seem  straining  from  their  base  ; — the  dis- 
mal sound  of  the  pumps  is  heard  ; — the  ship  leaps,  as  it 
were,  madly,  from  billow  to  billow ; — the  ocean  breaks, 
and  settles  with  ingulphing  floods  over  the  floating  deck, 

60  and  beats  with  deadening,  shivering  weight,  against  the 
staggered  vessel. — I  see  them,  escaped  from  these  perils, 
pursuing  their  all  but  desperate  undertaking,  and  land-^ 
ed  at  last,  after  a  five  months'  passage,  on  the  ice  clad 
rocks  of  Plymouth, — weak  and  weary  from  the  voyage, 

65  — poorly  armed,  scantily  provisioned,  depending  on  the 

charity   of  their  ship-master  for  a  draught  of  beer  on 

board,  drinking  nothing  but   water  on  shore, — without 

shelter, — without  means, — surrounded  by  hostile  tribes. 

Shut  now  the  volume  of  history,  and   tell  me,  on  any 

70  principle  of  human  probability,  what  shall  be  the  fate  of 
this  handful  of  adventurers. — Tell  me,  man  of  military 
science,  in  how  many  months  were  they  all  swept  otf 
by  the  thirty  savage  tribes,  enumerated  within  the  ear- 
ly  limits  of  New   England  ?    Tell  me,  politician,  how 

75  long  did  this  shadow  of  a  colony,  on    which  your  con- 

_  ventions  and  treaties  had  not  smiled,  languish  on  the 
distant  coast  ?  Student  of  history,  compare  for  me  the 
baflled  projects,  the  deserted  settlements,  the  abandon- 
ed adventures  of  other  times,   and  find   the   parallel  of 

80  this.  Was  it  the  winter's  storm,  beating  upon  the  house- 
less heads  of  women  and  children  ;  was  it  hard  labour 
and  spare  meals; — was  it  disease, — was  it  the  toma- 
hawk,— was  it  the  deep  malady  of  a  blighted  hope,  a  ru- 
ined enterprise,  and  a  broken   heart,   aching  in  its  last 

85  moments  at  the  recollection  of  the  loved  and  left,  be- 


Ex.  66.]  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  305 

yond  tlie  sea  ;  was  it  some,  or  all  of  these  united,  that 
hurried  tliis  forsaken  company  to  their  melancholy  fate  ? 
— And  is  it  possible  that  neither  of  these  causes,  that 
not  all  combined,  were  able  to  blast  this  bud  of  hope  ? — 
90  Is  it  possible,  thai  from  a  beginning  so  feeble,  so  frail, 
so  worthy,  not  so  much  of  admiration  as  of  pity,  there 
has  gone  forth  a  progress  so  steady,  a  growth  so  won- 
derful, an  expansion  so  ample,  a  reality  so  important, 
a  promise,  yet  to  be   fulfilled,  so  glorious  ?         Everett. 

56.  The  Progress  of  Poesy. 

Woods,  that  wave  o'er   Delphi's  steep ; 

Isles,  that  crown   the   Egean  deep ; 

Fields,  that  cool   Ilissus  laves, 

Or  where  Maeander's  amber  waves 
5     In  ling'ring  lab'rinths  creep, 

How  do  your  tuneful  echoes  languish, 

Mute  but  to  the  voice  of  anguish  ! 

Where  each  old  poetic  mountain, 

Inspiration  breath'd  around  ; 
10  Ev'ry  shade  and  hallow'd  fountain 

Murmur'd  deep  a  solemn  sound  : 

Till  the  sad  Nine,  in  Greece's  evil  hour, 

Left  their  Parnassus  for  the  Latian  plains  : 

Alike  they  scorn  the  pomp  of  tyrant  pow'r, 
15  And  coward  vice,  that  revels  in  her  chains. 

When  Latium  had  her  lofty  spirit  lost, 

They  sought,  O  Albion  !  next  thy  sea-encircled  coast. 
Far  from  the  sun  and  summer  gale. 

In  thy  green  lap  was  nature's  darTing  laid, 
20  What  time,  where  lucid  Avon  stray'd, 

To  him  the  mighty  mother  did  unveil 

Her  awful  face;  the  dauntless  child 

Stretch'd  forth  his  little  arms  and  smil'd. 

This  pencil  take,  (she  said,)  whose  colours  clear 
•2o  Richly  paint  the  vernal  year  ; 

Thine  too  these  golden  keys/immortal  boy  ! 

This  can  unlock  the  gates  of  joy; 

Of  horror,  that,  and  thrilling  fears, 

Or  ope  the  sacred  source  of  sympathetic  tears. 
26* 


^00  EXKRcisEs.  [Ex.  56,  67. 

•)0       Nor  second  he,  that  rode  sublime 

U|>on  the  seraph  wings  of  ecstacy, 

The  secrets  of  th'  abyss  to  spy. 

He  passM  the  flaming  bounds  of  space  and  time, 

The  Jiving  throne,  the  sapphire  blaze, 
35  Where  angels  tremble  while  they  gaze. 

He  saw  ;  but,  blasted  with  excess  of  light, 

Clos'd  his  eyes  in  endless  night. 

Behold,  where  Dryden's  less  presumptuous  car 

Wide  o'er  the  fields  of  glory  bear 
40  Two  coursers  of  ethereal  race, 

With  necks  in  thunder  cloth'd,  and  long  resounding  pace. 
Hark,  his  hands  the  lyre  explore  ! 

Bright-eyed  fancy,  hov'ring  o'er, 

Scatters  from  her   pictured  urn 
45  Thoughts  that  breathe,  and  words  that  burn. 

But  ah  !  'tis  heard  no  more — 

0  lyre  divine  !   what  daring  spirit 
Wakes  thee  now  ?  Though  he  inherit 
Nor  the  pride  nor  ample  pinion, 

50  That  the  Theban  eagle  bear, 

Sailing  with  supreme  dominion 

Through  the  azure  deep  of  air  : 

Yet  oft  before  his  infant  eyes  would  run 

Such  forms  as  glitter  in  the  muse's  ray, 
55  With  orient  hues,  unborrow'd  of  the  sun  ; 

Yet  shall  he  mount,  and  keep  his  distant  way 

Beyond  the  limits  of  a  vulgar  fate, 

Beneath  the  good  how  far — but  far  above  the  great. 

Grat/, 

5*7.         Darkness, 

1  HAr>  a  dream,  which  was  not  all  a  dream. 
The  bright  sun  was  extinguished,  and  the  stars 
Did  wander  darkling  in  the  eternal  space, 
Rayless,  and  pathless,  and  the  icy  earth 

5     Swung  blind  and  blackening  in  the  moonless  air ; 

Morn  came,  and  went — and  came,  and  brought  no  day, 
And  men  forgot  their  passions  in  the  dread 
Of  this  their  desolation  ;  and  all  hearts 


Ex.   57.]  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  307 

Were  chiird  into  a  selfish  prayer  for  light : 

10  And  they  did  live  by  watchfires — and  the  thrones, 
The  palaces  of  crowned  kings — the  huts, 
The  habitations  of  all  things  which  dwell, 
Were  burnt  for  beacons  ;  cities  were  consumed, 
And  men  were  gathered  round   their  blazing  homes 

15  To  look  once  more  into  each  other's  face ; 
Happy  were  those  who  dwelt  within  the  eye 
Of  the  volcanos,  and  their  mountain-torch  : 
A  fearful  hope  was  all  the  world  contained  ; 
Forests  were  set  on   fire — but  hour  by  hour 

20  They  fell  and  faded — and  the  crackling  trunks 
Extinoruish'd  with  a  crash — and  all  was  black. 
The  brows  of  men  by  the  despairing  light 
Wore  an  unearthly  aspect,  as  by  fits 
The  flashes  fell  upon  them  ;  some  lay  down 

25  And  hid  their  eyes  and  wept ;  and  some  did  rest 
Their  chins  upon  their  clenched  hands,  and  smiled ; 
And  others  hurried  to  and  fro,  and  fed 
Their  funeral  piles  with  fuel,  and  look'd  up 
With  mad  disquietude  on  the  dull  sky, 

30  The  pall  of  a  past  world  ;  and  then  again 
With  curses  cast  them  down  upon  the  dust, 
And  gnash'd  their  teeth   and  howPd  :  the  wild  birds 

shriek'd. 
And,  terrified,  did  flutter  on  the  ground, 
And  flap  their  useless  wings  ;  the  wildest  brutes 

35  Came  tame  and  tremulous  ;  and  vipers  crawl'd 
And  twined  themselves  among  the  multitude, 
Hissing,  but  stingless — they  were  slain  for  food  : 
And  War,  which  for  a  moment  was  no  more. 
Did  glut  himself  again  ; — a  meal  was  bought 

40  With  blood,  and  each  sat  sullenly  apart 

Gorging  himself  in  gloom  :  no  love  was  left  ; 

All  earth  was  but  one  thought — and  that  was  death, 

Immediate  and  inglorious  ;  and  the  pang 

Of  famine  fed  upon  all  entrails — men 

45  Died,  and  their   bones  were  tombless  as  their  flesh  ; 
The  meagre  by  the  meagre  were  devour'd, 
Even  dogs  assail'd  their  masters,  all  save  one, 
And  he  was  faithful  to  a  corse,  and  kept 


308  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  58. 

The  birds  and  beasts  and  famish'd  men  at  bay, 

50  Till  hunger  clung  them,  or  the  dropping  dead 

Lured  their  lank  jaws  ;  himself  sought  out  no  food, 
But  with  a  piteous  and  }>erpetual  moan 
And  a  quick  desolate  cry,  licking  the  hand 
Which  answer'd  not  with  a  caress — he  died. 

55  The  crowd  was  famish'd  by  degrees ;  but  two 
Of  an  enormous  city  did  survive, 
And  they  were  enemies  ;  they  met  beside 
The  dying  embers  of  an  altar-place 
Where  had  been  heap'd  a  mass  of  holy  things 

60  For  an  unholy  usage ;  they  raked  up, 

And  shivering  scraped  with  their  cold  skeleton  hands 
The  feeble  ashes,  and  their  feeble  breath 
Blew  for  a  little  life,  and  made  a  flame 
Which  was  a  mockery  ;  then  they  lifted  up 

65  Their  eyes  as  it  grew  lighter,  and  beheld 

Each  other's  aspects — saw,  and  shriek'd,  and  died — 
Even  of  their  mutual  hideousness  they  died. 
Unknowing  who  he  was  upon  whose  brow 
Famine  had  written  Fiend.     The  world  was  void, 

70  The  populous  and  the  powerful  was  a  lump, 
Seasonless,  herbless,  treeless,  manless,  lifeless — 
A  lump  of  death — a  chaos  of  hard  clay. 
The  rivers,  lakes,  and  ocean  all  stood  still, 
And  nothing  stirred  within  their  silent  depths ; 

75  Ships  sailorless  lay  rotting  on  the  sea, 

And  their   masts  fell  down  piecemeal ;  as  they  dropp'd 
They  slept  on  the  abyss  without  a  surge — 
The  waves  were  dead  ;  the  tides  were  in  their  grave, 
The  moon  their  mistress  had  expired  before  ; 

80  The  winds  were  wither'd  in  the  stagnant  air,  m 

And  the  clouds  perish'd  :  Darkness  had  no  need  ^ 

Of  aid  from  them — She  was  the  universe.  Byron. 

68,  The  Slave    Trade. 

The  land  is  not  wholly  free  from  the  contamination  of 
a  traffic,  at  which  every  feeling  of  humanity  must  forever 
revolt — I  mean  the  African  slave  trade.  Neither  public 
j^entiment,  nor  the  law,  has  hitherto  been  able  entirely 


i 


Ex.  58.]  SECULAR   ELOQUENCE.  309 

5  to  put  an  end  to  this  odious  and  abbminable  trade.  At 
the  moment  when  God,  in  his  mercy,  has  blessed  the 
Christian  world  with  an  universal  peace,  there  is  reason 
to  fear,  that  to  the  disgrace  of  the  christian  name  and 
character,  new   efforts  are  making   for  the  extension  of 

10  this  trade,  by  subjects  and  citizens  of  Christian  states, 
in  whose  hearts  no  sentiment  of  humanity  or  justice 
inhabits,  and  over  whom  neither  the  fear  of  God  nor 
the  fear  of  man  exercises  a  control.  In  the  sight  of 
our  law,  the  African  slave  trader  is  a  pirate  and  a  felon; 

15  and  in  the  sight  of  heaven,  an  offender  far  beyond  the 
ordinary  depth  of  human  guilt.  There  is  no  brighter 
part  of  our  history,  than  that  which  records  the  meas- 
ures which  have  been  adopted  by  the  government,  at 
an  early  day,  and  at  different  times   since,  for  the  sup- 

20  pression  of  this  traffic  ;  and  1  would  call  on  all  the  true 
sons  of  New-England,  to  co-operate  with  the  laws  of 
man,  and  the  justice  of  heaven.  If  there  be  within  the 
extent  of  our  knowledge  or  influence,  any  participation 
in  this  traffic,  let  us  pledge   ourselves  here,  to  extirpate 

25  and  destroy  it.  It  is  not  fit,  that  the  land  of  the  Pil- 
grims should  bear  the  shame  longer.  I  hear  the  sound 
of  the  hammer,  1  see  the  smoke  of  the  furnaces  where 
manacles  and  fetters  are  still  forged  for  human  limbs. 
I  see  the  visages  of  those,  who  by  stealth,  and  at  mid- 
30  night,  labour  in  this  work  of  hell,  foul  and  dark,  as 
may  become  the  artificers  of  such  instruments  of  mis- 
ery and  torture.  Let  that  spot  be  purified,  or  let  it 
cease  to  be  of  New-England.  Let  it  be  purified,  or  let 
it  be   set  aside  from  the  Christian  world  ;  let  it  be  put 

35  out  of  the  circle  of  human  sympathies  and  human  re- 
gards, and  let  civilized  man  henceforth  have  no  com- 
munion with  it. 

1  would    invoke  those   who   fill   the   seats  of  justice, 
and  all  who  minister  at  her   altar,  that  they  execute  the 

40  wholesome  and  pecessary  severity  of  the  law.  I. invoke 
the  ministers  of  our  religion,  that  they  proclaim  its  de- 
nunciation of  these  crimes,  and  add  its  solemn  sanctions 
to  the  authority  of  human  laws.  If  the  pulpit  be  silent, 
whenever,  or   wherever,   there   may  be  a  sinner  bloody 

45  with  this  guilt,  within  the  hearing  of  its  voice,  the  pul- 


310  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  59. 

pit  is  false  to  trust.  I  call  on  the  fair  merchant,  who 
has  reaped  his  harvest  upon  the  seas,  that  he  assist  in 
scourging  from  those  seas  the  worst  pirates  which  ever 
infested  them.     That  ocean,  which  seems  to  wave  with 

SO  a  gentle  majrnificencc  to  waft  the  burdens  of  an  honest 
couimerce,  and  to  roll  alon;?  its  treasures  with  a  con- 
scious pride  ;  that  ocean,  which  hardy  industry  regards, 
even  when  the  winds  have  ruffled  its  surface,  as  a  held 
of  grateful   toil ;  what  is  it  to  the   victim  of  this  oppres- 

55  sion,  when  he  is  brought  to  its  shores,  and  looks  forth 
upon  it,  for  the  first  time,  from  beneath  chains,  and 
bleeding  with  stripes?  What  is  it  to  him,  but  a  wide 
spread  prospect  of  suffering,  anguish,  and  death  ?  Nor 
do  the  skies  smile  longer,  nor  is  the  air  longer  fragrant 

60  to  him.  The  sun  is  cast  down  from  heaven.  An  in- 
human and  accursed  traffic  has  cut  him  off  in  his  man- 
hood, or  in  his  youth,  from  every  enjoyment  belonging 
to  his  being,  and  every  blessing  which  his  Creator  in- 
tended for  him.  Webster. 

59.         Dream  of  Clarence. 

O,  I  have  passed  a  miserable  night, 

So  full  of  fearful  dreams,  of  ugly  sights, 

That,  as  I  am  a  Christian  faithful  man, 

I  would  not  spend  another  such  a  night, 
5     Though  'twere  to  buy  a  world  of  happy  days  : 

So  full  of  dismal  terror  was  the  time. 

Methought,  that  I  had  broken  from  tlie  Tower, 

And  was  embarked  to  cross  to  Burgundy  ; 

And,  in  my  company,  my  brother  Gloster, 
10  Who  from  my  cabin   tempted  me  to  walk 

Upon  the  hatches ;  thence  we  looked  toward  England, 

And  cited  up  a  thousand  heavy  times, 

During  the  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster, 

That  had  befallen  us.     As  we  pac'd  along 
15  Upon  the  giddy  footing  of  the  hatches, 

Methought,  that  Gloster  stumbled ;  and,  in  falling, 

Struck  me,  that  sought  to  stay  him,  overboard, 

Into  the  tumbling  billows  of  the  main. 

O,  then  methought,  what  pain  it  was  to  drown  I 


Ex.59.]  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  311 

20  What  dreadful  noise  of  waters  in  my  ears  ! 
What  sights  of  ugly  death  within  mine  eyes ! 
Methought,  I  saw  a  thousand  fearful  wrecks  ; 
A  thousand  men,  that  fishes  gnawed  upon ; 
Wedges  of  gold,  great  anchors,  heaps  of  pearl, 

25  Inestimable  stones,  unvalued  jewels  ; 
All  scattered  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
Some  lay  in  dead  men's  sculls  ;  and,  in  those  holes 
Where  eyes  did  once  inhabit,  there  were  crept, 
As  'twere  in  scorn  of  eyes,  reflecting  gems, 

30  That  wooed  the  slimy  bottom  of  the  deep. 

And  mocked  the  dead  bones  that  lay  scattered  by. 

Often  did  I  strive 

To  yield  the  ghost ;  but  still  the  envious  flood 
Kept  in  my  soul,  and  would  not  let  it  forth 

35  To  find  the  empty,  vast,  and  wandering  air ; 
But  smother'd  it  within  my  panting  bulk, 
Which  almost  burst  to  belch  it  in  the  sea. 

My  dream  was  lengthened  after  life  ; 
O,  then  began  the  tempest  to  my  soul  ! 

40  I  passed,  methought,  the  melancholy  flood, 
With  that  grim  ferryman  which  poets  write  of, 
Unto  the  kingdom  of  perpetual  night. 
The  first  that  there  did  greet  my  stranger-soul. 
Was  my  great  father-in-law,  renowned  Warwick  ; 

45  Who  cried  aloud *'  What  scourge  for  perjury 

Can  this  dark  monarchy  afford  false  Clarence  V* 
And  so  he  vanished.     Then  came  wandering  by 
A  shadow  like  an  angel,  with  bright  hair 
Dabbled  in  blood  !  and   he  shrieked  out  aloud — 

50  '*  Clarence  is  come  -  false,  fleeting,   perjured  Clarence, 
— That  stabbed  me  in  the  field  by  Tevvksbury  ; — 
Seize  on  him,  furies,  take  him  to  your  torments  !'* — 
With  that,  methought,  a  legion  of  foul  fiends 
Environed  me,  and  howled  in  mine  ears 

55  Such  hideous  cries,  that,  with  the  very  noise, 
I  trembling  waked  ;  and,  for  a  season  after, 
Could  not  believe  but  that  I  was  in  hell ; 
>Such  terrible  impression  made  my  dream. 

Shakspeare. 


312  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  GO. 

60.         Moral  Snblimiti/. 
What  can  strive 


Witli  virtue  ?  which  of  nature's  regions  vast 
Can  in  so  many  forms  produce  to  siojht 
Such  powerful  beauty  ?  beauty  which  the  eye 

o     Of  hatred  cannot  look  upon  secure^ 

Which  envy's  self  contemplates,  aira  is  turned 
Ere  long  to  tenderness,  to  infant  smiles, 
Or  tears  of  humblest  love.     Is  aught  so  fair 
In  all  the  dewy  landscapes  of  the  spring, 

10  The  summer's  noontide  groves,  the  purple  eve 
At  harvest  home,  or  in  the  frosty  moon 
Glittering  on  some  smooth  sea,  is  aught  so  fair 
As  virtuous  friendship :  as  the  honoured  roof 
Whither  from  highest  heaven  immortal  love 

15  His  torch  etherial  and  his  golden  bow 

Propitious  brings,  and  there  a  temple  holds 

To  whose  unspotted  service  gladly  vowed 

The  social  band  of  parent,  brother,  child, 

With  smiles  and  sweet  discourse  and  gentle  deeds 

20  Adore  his  power  ?    What  gift  of  richest  clime 
E'er  drew  such  eager  eyes,  or  prompted  such 
Deep  wishes,  as  the  zeal  that  snatches  back 
From  slander's  poisonous  tooth  a  foe's  renown  ; 
Or  crosseth  danger  in  his  lion  walk, 

25  A  rival's  life  to  rescue  ?  as  the  young 
Athenian  warrior  sitting    down  in  bonds. 
That  his  great  father's  body  might  not  want 
A  peaceful,  humble  tomb?  the  Roman  wife 
Teaching  her  lord  how  harmless  was  the  wound 

30  Of  death,  how  impotent  the  tyrant's  rage, 
Who  nothing  more  could  threaten  to  afflict 
Their  faithful  love  ?  Or  is  there  in  the  abyss, 
Is  there,  among  the  adamantine  spheres 
Wheeling  unshaken  through  the  boundless  void, 

35  Aught  that  with  half  such  majesty  can  fill 
The  human  bosom,  as  when  Brutus  rose 
Refulgent,  from  the  stroke  of  Caesar's  fate 
Afnid  the  crowd  of  patriots  ;  and,  his  arm 


Ex.  61.]  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  313 

Aloft  extending,  like  eternal  Jove 
When  guilt  brings  down  the  thunder,  called  aloud 
40  On  Tuliy's  name,  and  shook  the  crimson  sword 
Of  justice  in  his  wrapt  astonished  eye, 
And  bade  the  father  of  his  country  hail, 
For  lo  the  tyrant  prostrate  on  the  dust — 
And  Rome  again  is  free  ? Akenside* 

61.  Character  of  Brutus. 

Ask  any  one  man  of  morals,  whether  he  approves 
of  assassination  ;  he  will  answer,  No.  Would  you  kill 
your  friend  and  benefactor  ?  No.  The  question  is  a 
horrible  insult.  Would  you  practise  hypocrisy  and 
5  smile  in  his  face,  while  your  conspiracy  is  ripening,  to 
gain  his  confidence  and  to  lull  him  into  security,  in  or- 
der to  take  away  his  life  ?  Every  honest  man,  on  the 
bare  suggestion,  feels  his  blood  thicken  and  stagnate  at 
his  heart.     Yet  in  this  picture  we  see  Brutus.   It  would 

10  perhaps,  be  scarcely  just  to  hold  him  up  to  abhorrence ; 
it  is,  certainly,  monstrous  and  absurd  to  exhibit  his  con- 
duct to  admiration. 

He  did  not  strike  the  tyrant  from  hatred  or  ambition  ; 
his  motives  were  admitted  to  be  good ;  but  was  not  the 

15  action  nevertheless,  bad  ? 

To  kill  a  tyrant,  is  as  much  murder,  as  to  kill  any 
other  man.  Besides,  Brutus,  to  extenuate  the  crime, 
could  have  had  no  rational  hope  of  putting  an  end  to 
the  tyranny  ;  he  had  foreseen  and   provided  nothing  to 

20  realize  it.  The  conspirators  relied,  foolishly  enough, 
on  the  love  of  the  multitude  for  liberty — they  loved  their 
safety,  their  ease,  their  sports,  and  their  demagogue 
favourites  a  great  deal  better.  They  quietly  looked  on, 
as  spectators,  and  left  it  to  the  legions  of  Antony,  and 

25  Octavius,  and  to  those  of  Syria,  Macedonia,  and  Greece, 
to  decide,  in  the  field  of  Phillippi,  whether  there  should 
be  a  republic  or  not.  It  was  accordingly,  decided  in 
favour  of  an  emperor  ;  and  the  people  sincerely  rejoiced 
in  the  political  calm,  that  restored  the  games  of  the  cir- 

30  cus,  and  the  plenty  of  bread. 

27 


314  EXERCISES.        '        .  [Ex.61. 

Those,  who  cannot  bring  their  judj^ments  to  condemn 
the  killinfT  of  a  tyrant,  must  nevertheless  agree  that  the 
blood  of  Cffisar  was  uiiprohtably  shed.  Liberty  gained 
nothing  by  it,  and  humanity  lost  much ;  for  it  cost  eigh- 

35  teen  years  of  agitation  and   civil  war,  before  the  ambi- 
tion of  the  military  and  popular  chieftains  had  expend- 
ed its  means,  and  the  power  was  concentred  in  one 
man's  hands. 
Shall  we  be  told,  the  example  of  Brutus  is  a  good  one, 

40  because  it  will  never  cease  to  animate  the  race  of  ty- 
rant-killers— But  will  the  fancied  usefulness  of  assassi- 
nation overcome  our  instinctive  sense  of  its  horror?  Is 
it  to  become  a  part  of  our  political  morals,  that  the  chief 
of  a  state  is  to  be  stabbed  or  poisoned,  whenever  a  fan- 

45  atick,  a  malecontent,  or  a  reformer  shall  rise  up  and 
call  him  a  tyrant  ?  Then  there  would  be  as  little  calm 
in  despotism  as  in  liberty. 

But  when  has  it  happened,  that  the  death  of  an  usurp- 
er has  restored  to  the  public  liberty   its  departed  life? 

50  Every  successful  usurpation  creates  many  competitors 
for  power,  and  they  successively  fall  in  the  struggle. 
In  all  this  agitation,  liberty  is  without  friends,  without 
resources,  and  without  hope.  Blood  enough,  and  the 
blood  of  tyrants  too,  was  shed  between  the  time  of  the 

55  wars  of  Marius  and  death  of  Antony,  a  period  of  about 
sixty  years,  to  turn  a  common  grist-mill ;  yet  the  cause 
of  the  public  liberty  continually  grew  more  and  more 
desperate.  It  is  not  by  destroying  tyrants,  that  we  are 
to  extinguish  tyranny  ;  nature  is  not  thus  to  be  exhaust- 

60  ed  of  her  power  to  produce  them.  The  soil  of  a  repub- 
lic sprouts  with  the  rankest  fertility  ;  it  has  been  sown 
with  dragon's  teeth.  To  lessen  the  hopes  of  usur|)ing 
demagogues,  we  must  enlighten,  animate  and  combine 
the  spirit  of  freemen  ;  we  must  fortify  and  guard  the 

65  constitutional  ramparts  about  liberty.  When  its  friends 
become  indolent  or  disheartened,  it  is  no  longer  of  any 
importance  how  long-lived  are  its  enemies  :  they  will 
prove  immortal. 

Ames, 


Ex.62.]  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  315 

62.  Conclusion  of  Webster's  Plymouth  Discourse, 

The  hours  of  this  day  are  rapidly  flying,  and  this  oc- 
casion will  soon  be  passed.  Neither  we  nor  our  chil- 
dren can  expect  to  behold  its  return.  They  are  in  the 
distant  regions  of  futurity,  they  exist  only  in  the  all- 
5  creating  power  of  God,  who  shall  stand  here,  a  hundred 
years  hence,  to  trace,  through  us,  their  descent  from  the 
Pilgrims,  and  to  survey,  as  we  have  now  surveyed,  the 
progress  of  their  country,  during  the  lapse  of  a  century. 
We  would  anticipate    their  concurrence  with  us  in  our 

10  sentiments  of  deep  regard  for  our  common  ancestors. 
We  would  anticipate  and  partake  the  pleasure  with 
which  they  will  then  recount  the  steps  of  New-England's 
advancement.  On  the  morning  of  that  day,  although  it 
will  not  disturb  us  in  our  repose,  the  voice  of  acclama- 

15  tion  and  gratitude,  commencing  on  the  Rock  of  Ply- 
mouth, shall  be  transmitted  through  millions  of  the  sons 
of  the  Pilgrims,  till  it  lose  itself  in  the  murmurs  of  the 
Pacific  seas. 

AVe  would  leave  for  the  consideration  of  those  who 

•20  shall  then  occupy  our  places,  some  proof  that  we  hold 
the  blessings  transmitted  from  our  fathers  in  just  esti- 
mation ;  some  proof  of  our  attachment  to  the  cause  of 
good  government,  and  of  civil  and  religious  liberty  ; 
some  proof  of  a  sincere  and  ardent  desire  to  promote 

25  every  thing  which  may  enlarge  the  understandmgs  and 
improve  the  hearts  of  men.  And  when,  from  the  long 
distance  of  an  hundred  years,  they  shall  look  back  upon 
us,  they  shall  know,  at  least,  that  we  possessed  affec- 
tions,   which    running    backward,   and    warming    with 

30  gratitude  for  what  our  ancestors  have  done  for  our  hap- 
piness, run  forward  also  to  our  posterity,  and  meet  them 
with  cordial  salutation,  ere  yet  they  have  arrived  on  the 
shore  of  Being. 

Advance,  then,  ye   future   generations  !     We   would 

35  hail  you,  as  you  rise  in  your  long  succession,  to  fill  the 
places  which  we  now  fill,  and  to  taste  the  blessings  of 
existence,  where  we  are  passing,  and  soon  shall  have 
passed,  our  own  human  duration.  We  bid  you  wel- 
come to  this  pleasant  land  of  the  Fathers.     We  bid  you 


316  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  63. 

40  welcome  to  the  healthful  skies,  and  the  verdant  fields 
of  New-England.  We  greet  your  accession  to  the  great 
inheritance  which  we  have  enjoyed.  We  welcome  you 
to  the  blessings  of  good  government,  and  religious  lib- 
erty.    We  welcome  you  to  the  treasures  of  science,  and 

4o  the  delights  of  learning.  We  welcome  you  to  the  tran- 
scendant  sweets  of  domestic  life,  to  the  happiness  of 
kindred,  and  parents,  and  children.  We  welcome  you 
to  the  immeasurable  blessings  of  rational  existence,  the 
immortal  hope  of  Christianity,  and  the  light  of  everlast- 

50  ing  Truth  ! 

63.         Address  to  the  Patriots^  of  the  Revolution. 

Venerable  men  !  you  have  come  down  to  us,  from 
a  former  generation.  Heaven  has  bounteously  length- 
ened out  your  lives,  that  you  might  behold  this  joyous 
day.  You  are  now,  where  you  stood,  fifty  years  ago, 
5  this  very  hour,  with  your  brothers,  and  your  neighbours 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  in  the  strife  for  your  country. 
Behold,  how  altered  !  The  same  heavens  are  indeed 
over  your  heads ;  the  same  ocean  rolls  at  your  feet : 
but  all  else,  how  changed  !     You   hear   now  no  roar  of 

10  hostile  cannon,  you  see  no  mixed  volumes  of  smoke  and 
flame  rising  from  burning  Charlestown.  The  ground 
strewed  with  the  dead  and  the  dying  ;  the  impetuous 
charge ;  the  steady  and  successful  repulse  ;  the  loud 
call  to  repeated  assault ;  the  summoning  of  all  that  is 

15  manly  to  repeated  resistance  ;  a  thousand  bosoms  free- 
ly and  fearlessly  bared  in  an  instant  to  whatever  of  ter- 
ror there  may  be  in  war  and  death  ; — all  these  you  have 
witnessed,  but  you  witness  them  no  more.  All  is 
peace.     The   heights  of  yonder  metropolis,  its  towers 

20  and  roofs,  which  you  then  saw  filled  with  wives  and 
children  and  countrymen  in  distress  and  terror,  and 
looking  with  unutterable  emotions  for  the  issue  of  th( 
combat,  have  presented  you  to-day  with  the  sight  of  its 
whole    happy   population,   come  out   to  welcome   and 

25  greet  you  with  an  universal  jubilee.  Yonder  proud 
ships,  by  a  felicity  of  position  appropriately  lying  at  th( 


Ex.   64. J  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  317 

foot  of  this  mount,  and  seeming  fondly  to  cling  around 
it,  are  not  means  of  annoyance  to  you,  but  your  coun- 
try's own   means  of  distinction   and   defence.     All  is 

30  peace  ;  and  God  has  granted  you  this  sight  of  your 
country's  happiness,  ere  you  slumber  in  the  grave  for- 
ever. He  has  allowed  you  to  behold  and  to  partake  the 
reward  of  your  patriotic  toils  ;  and  he  has  allowed  us, 
your  sons  and  countrymen,  to  meet  you  here,  and  in  the 

35  name  of  the  present  generation,  in  the  name  of  your 
country,  in  the  name  of  liberty,  to  thank  you! 

But,  alas  !  you  are  not  all  here  !  Time  and  the 
sword  have  thinned  your  ranks.  Prescott,  Putnam, 
Stark,  Brooks,  Read,  Pomeroy,  Bridge !  our   eyes  seek 

40  for  you  in  vain  amidst  this  broken  band.  You  are 
gathered  to  your  fathers,  and  live  only  to  your  country 
in  her  grateful  remembrance,  and  your  own  bright  ex- 
ample. But  let  us  not  too  much  grieve,  that  you  have 
met  the  common  fate  of  men.     You  lived,  at  least,  long 

45  enough  to  know  that  your  work  had  been  nobly  and 
successfully  accomplished.  You  lived  to  see  your  coun- 
try's independence  established,  and  to  sheathe  your 
swords  from  war.  On  the  light  of  Liberty  you  saw  arise 
the  light  of  Peace,  like 

*  another  morn, 
Risen  on  mid-noon  ;' — , 

and  the  sky,  on  which  you  closed  your  eyes,  was  cloud- 
less. Webster, 

64.         Brutus^  Speech, 

Romans,  countrymen,  and  lovers,  hear  me  for  my 
cause  ;  and  be  silent  that  you  may  hear.  Believe  me 
for  mine  honour;  and  have  respect  to  mine  honour,  that 
you  may  believe.     Censure   me  in  your  wisdom  ;  and 

5     awake  your  senses,  that  you  may  the  better  judge. — If 
there  be  any  in  this  assembly,  any  dear  friend  of  Csesar's, 
to  him,  I  say,  that  Brutus'  love  to  C»iesar  was  no  less 
than  his.     If,  then,  that  friend  demand  why  Brutus  rose 
against  Caesar,  this  is  my  answer  :  Not  that  I  loved 

10  Caesar   less,   but  that  I  loved  Rome  more.     Had  you 

07# 


318  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  65. 

rather  Caesar  \\ere  livinjr,  and  die  all  slaves ;  than  tliat 
CfiBsar  were  dead,  to  live  all  freemen  ?  As  Caesar  loved 
me,  I  weep  for  him ;  as  he  was  fortunate,  I  rejoice  at 
it ;  as  he   was   valiant,  I  honour  him ;  but  as   he   was 

15  ambitious,  I  slew  him.  There  are  tears,  for  his  love ; 
joy,  for  his  fortune  ;  honour,  for  his  valour  ;  and  death, 
for  his  ambition. — Who's  here  so  base  that  would  be  a 
bondman  ?  if  any,  speak  ;  for  him  have  I  ofTended. 
Who's  here  so  rude,   that   would  not  be  a  Roman  ?  if 

20  any,  speak  ;  for  him  have   I  offended.     Who's  here  so 
vile,   that  will   not  love  his  country  ?  if  any,   speak  ; 
for  him  have  I  offended. — I  pause  for  a  reply  : — 
None  !  Then  none  have  I  offended. — I  have  done  no 

25  more  to  Caesar  than  you  shall  do  to  Brutus.  The  ques- 
tion of  his  death  i&enrolled  in  the  capitol  ;  his  glory  not 
extenuated,  wherein  he  was  worthy ;  nor  his  offences 
enforced,  for  which  he  suffered  death. 

Here  comes  his  body,   mourned   by   Mark  Antony  ; 

30  who,  though  he  had  no  hand  in  his  death,  shall  receive 
— the  benefit  of  his  dying — a  place  in  the  common- 
wealth ;  as  which  of  you  shall  not  ? — With  this  I  de- 
part ;  that,  as  I  slew  my  best  lover  for  the  good  of  Rome, 
I  have  the  same  dagger  for  myself,  when  it  shall  please 

35  my  country  to  need  my  death.  Shakspearc. 

65.  Chatham's  Speech. 

Almost  for  the  last  time,  lord  Chatham  displayetl  hib 
admirable  eloquence  in  opposing  the  address  moved  in 
the  house  of  lords,  on  his  late  majesty's  speech  from 
the  throne  in  1778.  Some  censure  having  been  ex- 
5  pressed  on  the  employing  of  savages  against  the  armies 
of  the  insurgent  Americans,  the  measure  was  defended 
by  his  majesty's  ministers  ;  and  the  pompous  Suffolk, 
as  he  is  described  by  Junius,  declared  that  '*  adminis- 
tration would  have  been  highly  reprehensible,  if,  en- 
10  trusted  as  they  were  with  the  suppression  of  so  unnatu- 
ral a  rebellion,  they  had  not  used  all  the  means  to  sup- 
press it  which  God  and  Nature  had  put  into  their 
hands." — Lord  Chatham  rose,  and  said  : 

My  lords, — 1  cannot, — I  will  not  join  in  congratula- 


Ex.  65.]  SECULAR  ELOQUENCEo  319 

15  tion  on  misfortune  and  disgrace.  This,  is  a  perilous 
and  tremendous  moment — it  is  not  a  time  for  adulation 
— the  smoothness  of  flattery  cannot  save  us  in  this  rug- 
ged and  awful  crisis.  It  is  now  necessary  to  instruct 
the  throne  in  the  language  of  truth.     We  must,  if  pos- 

20  sible,  dispel  the  delusion  and  darkness  which  envelope 
it ;  and  display  in  its  full  danger  and  genuine  colours 
the  ruin  which  is  brought  to  our  doors.  Can  ministers 
still  presume  to  expect  support  in  their  infatuation  ? 
Can  parliament   be  so  dead  to  their  dignity  and  duty, 

25  as  to  give  their  support  to  measures  thus  obtruded  and 
forced  upon  them  ?  Measures,  which  have  reduced 
this  late  flourishing  empire  to  scorn  and  contempt. 

But,  who  is  the  man,  that,  in  addition  to  the  disgrac- 
es and  mischiefs  of  the  war,  has  dared  to  authorize  and 

30  associate  to  our  arms  the  tomahawk  and  scalping-knife 
of  the  savage?  to  call  into  civilized  alliance  the  wild 
and  inhuman  inhabitant  of  the  woods  ?  to  delesrate  to 
the  merciless  Indian  the  defence  of  disputed  rights,  and 
to  wage  the  horrors  of  his   barbarous  war   against  our 

J35  brethren  ?  this  barbarous  measure  has  been  defended, 
not  only  on  the  principles  of  policy  and  necessity,  but 
also  on  those  of  morality  ;  *  for  it  is  perfectly  allowable/ 
says  lord  Suffolk,  *  to  use  all  the  means  God  and  Nature 
have   put  into   our   hands  !  '     I   am   astonished,'  I  am 

40  shocked,  to  hear  such  principles  confessed,  to  hear  them 
avowed  in  the  house,  or  this  country.  My  lords,  I  did 
not  intend  to  encroach  so  much  on  your  attention  ;  but 
I  cannot  repress  my  indignation  ;  I  feel  myself  impelled 
to  speak.     We  are  called  upon  as  members  of  this  house, 

45  as  men,  as  Christians,  to  protest  against  such  horrible 
barbarity — '  that  God  and  Nature  have  put  into  our 
hands  !'  What  ideas  of  God  and  Nature  that  noble 
lord  may  entertain,  I  know  not;  but  I  know  that  such 
detestable  principles   are  equally   abhorrent  to  religion 

50  and  humanity.  What !  to  attribute  the  sacred  sanction 
of  God  and  Nature  to  the  massacres  of  the  Indian  scalp- 
ing-knife I  to  the  cannibal  savage,  torturing,  murder- 
ing, devouring,  drinking  the  blood  of  his  mangled  vic- 
tims !     Such  notions  shock  every  precept  of  morality, 


S20  EXERCISES.         f  [Ex.  66. 

55  every  feeling  of  humanity,  every  sentiment  of  honour. 
These  abominable  principles,  and  this  most  abominable 
avowal  of  them,  demand  the  most  decisive  indignation. 
I  call  upon  that  right  reverend,  and  this  most  learned 
bench,  to  vindicate  the  religion  of  their  God,  to  support 

60  the  justice  of  their  country.  I  call  upon  the  bishops  to 
interpose  the  sanctity  of  their  lawn,  upon  the  judges  to 
interpose  the  purity  of  their  ermine,  to  save  us  from  this 
pollution.  I  call  upon  the  honour  of  your  lordships  to 
reverence  the  dignity  of  your  ancestors,  and  to  main- 

65  tain  your  own.  I  call  upon  the  spirit  and  humanity 
of  my  country  to  vindicate  the  national  character.  I 
invoke  the  Genius  of  the  Constitution.  From  the  tap- 
estry, that  adorn  these  walls,  the  immortal  ancestor  of 
this  noble  lord   frowns  with  indignation  at  the  disgrace 

70  of  his  country.  In  vain  did  he  defend  the  liberty,  and 
establish  the  religion  of  Britain,  against  the  tyranny  of 
Rome,  if  these  worse  than  popish  cruelties  and  inquisi- 
torial practices  are  endured  among  us.  To  send  forth 
the  merciless   cannibal,  thirsting  for  blood  !     against 

75  whom  ?  your  protestant  brethren  !  To  lay  waste  their 
country,  to  desolate  their  dwellings,  and  extirpate  their 
race  and  name  by  the  aid  and  instrumentality  of  these 
horrible  hell-hounds  of  war  !  Spain  can  no  longer  boast 
pre-eminence    in  barbarity.     She   armed   herself  with 

80  blood  hounds  to  extirpate  the  wretched  natives  of  Mex- 
ico ;  we,  more  ruthless,  loose  these  dogs  of  war  against 
our  countrymen  in  America,  endeared  to  us  by  every 
tie,  that  can  sanctify  humanity.  I  solemnly  call  upon 
your  lordships,  and  upon  every  order  of  men  in  the  state, 

85  to  stamp  upon  the  infamous  procedure  the  indelible 
stigma  of  public  abhorrence.  More  particularly,  I  call 
upon  the  holy  prelates  of  our  religion  to  do  away  this 
iniquity ;  let  them  perform  a  lustration  to  purify  the 
country  from  this  deep  and  deadly  sin. 

66.         Specimen  of  the  Eloquence  of  James  Otis. 

England  may  as  well  dam  up  the  waters  of  the  Nile, 
with  bulrushes,  as  to  fetter  the  step  of  freedom,  more 
proud  and  firm  in  this  youthful  land,  than  where  she 


Ex.  66.]  SECULAR    ELOQUENCE.  321 

treads  the  sequestered  glens  of  Scotland,  or  couches  her- 
5  self  among  the  magnificent  mountains  of  Switzerland. 
Arbitrary  principles,  like  those,  against  which  we  now 
contend,  have  cost  one  king  of  England  his  life,  anoth- 
er his  crown — and  they  may  yet  cost  a  third  his  most 
flourishing  colonies. 

10  We  are  two  millions— one  fifth  fighting  men.  We 
are  bold  and  vigorous, — and  we  call  no  man  master. 
To  the  nation,  from  whom  we  are  proud  to  derive  our 
origin,  we  ever  were,  and  we  ever  will  be,  ready  to 
yield  unforced  assistance  ;  but  it  must  not,  and  it  never 

15  can  be  extorted. 

Some  have  sneeringly  asked,  "Are  the  Americans 
too  poor  to  pay  a  few  pounds  on  stamped  paper  V  No  ! 
America,  thanks  to  God  and  herself,  is  rich.  But  the 
right  to  take  ten   pounds,   implies  the  right  to   take  a 

20  thousand  ;  and  what  must  be  the  wealth,  that  avarice, 
aided  by  power,  cannot  exhaust  ?  True  the  spectre  is 
now  small  ;  but  the  shadow  he  casts  before  him,  is  huge 
enough  to  darken  all  this  fair  land. 

Others,  in  sentimental  style,  talk  of  the  immense  debt 

25  of  gratitude,  which  we  owe  to  England.  And  what  is 
the  amount  of  this  debt  ?  Why,  truly,  it  is  the  same 
that  the  young  lion  owes  to  the  dam,  which  has  brought 
it  forth  on  the  solitude  of  the  mountain,  or  left  it  amid 
the  winds  and  storms  of  the  desert. 

30  We  plunged  into  the  wave,  with  the  great  charter 
of  freedom  in  our  teeth,  because  the  faggot  and  torch 
were  behind  us.  We  have  waked  this  new  world  from 
its  savage  lethargy  ;  forests  have  been  prostrated  in  our 
path  ;  towns  and  cities  have  grown   up  suddenly  as  the 

35  flowers  of  the  tropics,  and  the  fires  in  our  autumnal 
woods  are  scarcely  more  rapid,  than  the  increase  of  our 
wealth  and  population. 

And  do  we  owe  all  this  to  the  kind  succour  of  the 
mother  country  ?     No  !  we  owe  it  to  the   tyranny,  that 

40  drove  us  from  her, — to  the  pelting  storms,  which  invig- 
orated our  helpless  infancy. 

But  perhaps  others  will  say  **We  ask  no  money  from 
your  gratitude, — we  onl^  demand  that  you  should  pay 


322  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  67. 

your  own  expenses."     And  vvIk)  I    pray,  is  to  judge  of 

45  their  necessity  1  Why,  the  King — (and  with  all  due 
reverence  to  his  sacred  majesty,  he  understands  the  real 
wants  of  his  distant  subjects,  as  little  as  he  does  the 
language  of  the  Choctaws.)  Who  is  to  judge  concern- 
ing the  frequency  of  these   demands  ?     The   ministry. 

50  Who  is  to  judge  whether  the  money  is  properly  expen- 
ded 1     The  cabinet  behind  tlie  throne. 

In  every  instance,  those  wlio  take,  are  to  judge  for 
those  who  pay  ;  if  this  system  is  suffered  to  go  into  ope- 
ration, we  shall  have  reason  to  esteem  it  a  great  privilege, 

55  that  rain  and  dew  do  not  depend  upon  parliament ;  oth- 
erwise they  would  soon  be  taxed  and  dried. 

But  thanks  to  God,  there  is  freedom  enough  left  upon 
earth  to  resist  such  monstrous  injustice.  The  flame  of 
liberty  is  extinguished  in   Greece  and   Rome,  but  the 

60  light  of  its  glowing  embers  it  still  bright  and  strong  on 
the  shores  of  America.  Actuated  by  its  sacred  influ- 
ence, we  will  resist  unto  death.  But  we  will  not  coun- 
tenance anarchy  and  misrule.  The  wrongs,  that  a  des- 
perate community   have   heaped   upon  their  enemies, 

65  shall  be  amply  and  speedily  repaired.  Still,  it  may  be 
well  for  some  proud  men  to  remember,  that  a  fire  is 
lighted  in  these  colonies,  which  one  breath  of  their  king 
may  kindle  into  such  fury  that  the  blood  of  all  England 
cannot  extinguish  it. 

67.         Pitt's  reply  to  Walpole. 

Sir, 

The  atrocious  crime  of  being  a  young  man,  which 
the  honourable  gentleman  has,  with  such  spirit  and  de- 
cency, charged  upon  me,  I  shall  neither  attempt  to  palli- 
ate, nor  deny, — but  content  myself  with  wishing  that  I 
5  may  be  one  of  those  whose  follies  may  cease  with  their 
youth,  and  not  of  that  number  who  are  ignorant  in  spite 
of  experience.  Whether  youth  can  be  imputed  to  any 
man  as  a  reproach,  I  will  not,  sir,  assume  the  province 
of  determining  ; — but  surely  age  may  become  justly  con- 
10  temptible,  if  the  opportunities  which  it  brings  have  past 
away  without  improvement,  and  vice  appears  to  prevail, 


Ex.  67.]  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  323 

when  the  passions  have  subsided.  The  wretch  who 
after  having  seen  the  consequences  of  a  thousand  er- 
rors, continues  still  to   blunder,  and  whose  age  has  on- 

15  ly  added  obstinacy  to  stupidity,  is  surely  the  object  of 
either  abhorrence  or  contempt,  and  deserves  not  that 
his  grey  hairs  should  secure  him  from  insult.  Much 
more,  sir,  is  he  to  be  abhorred,  who,  as  he  advanced  in 
age,  has  receded  from  virtue,  and  becomes  more  wicked 

20  with  less  temptation  ; — who  prostitutes  himself  for  mon- 
ey which  he  cannot  enjoy,  and  spends  the  remains  of 
his  life  in  the  ruin  of  his  country.  But  youth,  sir,  is 
not  my  only  crime;  I  have  been  accused  of  acting  a 
theatrical  part.     A   theatrical   part  may   either   imply 

25  some  peculiarities  of  gesture,  or  a  dissimulation  of  my 
real  sentiments,  and  an  adoption  of  the  opinions  and 
language  of  another  man. 

In  the  first  sense,  sir,  the  charge  is  too  trifling  to  be 
confuted,  and  deserves  only  to  be  mentioned  to  be  despis- 

30  ed.  I  am  at  liberty,  like  every  other  man,  to  use  my 
own  language  ;  and  though,  perhaps  I  may  have  some 
ambition  to  please  this  gentleman,  I  shall  not  lay  my- 
self under  any  restraint,  nor  very  solicitously  copy  his 
diction,  or  his  mien,  however  matured  by  age,  or   mod- 

35  elled  by  experience.  If  any  man  shall,  by  charging  me 
with  theatrical  behaviour,  imply  that  I  utter  any  senti- 
ments but  my  own,  I  shall  treat  him  as  a  calumniator 
and  a  villain  ; — nor  shall  any  protection  shelter  him  from 
the   treatment   he  deserves.     I  shall,  on  such  an  occa- 

40  sion,  without  scruple,  trample  upon  all  those  forms  with 
which  wealth  and  difirnity  intrench  themselves, — nor 
shall  any  thing  but  age  restrain  my  resentment ; — age, 
which  always  brings  one  privilege,  that  of  being  inso- 
lent  and   supercilious   without  punishment.     But  with 

45  regard,  sir,  to  those  whom  I  have  offended,  I  am  of 
opinion,  that  if  I  had  acted  a  borrowed  part,  I  should 
have  avoided  their  censure  ;  the  heat  that  offended 
them  is  the  ardour  of  conviction,  and  that  zeal  for  the 
service  of  my  country,  which  neither  hope  nor  fear  shall 

50  influence  me  to  suppress.  I  will  not  sit  unconcerned 
while  my  liberty  is  invaded,  nor   look  in  silence  upon 


324  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  68. 

public  robbery.    I  will  exert  my  endeavours  at  whatever 
hazard,  to  repel  the  aggressor,  and  drag  the  thief  to  jus- 
tice,— whoever  may  protect  them  in  their  viiiany — and, 
55  whoever  may  partake  of  their  plunder. 

68.         Speech  of  Mr.  Griffin  against  C'leetham. 

I  am  one  of  those  who  believe  that  thr  heart  of  the 
wilful  and  the  deliberate  libeller  is  blacker  than  that  of 
the  high-way  robber,  or  of  one  who  commits  the  crime  of 
midnight  arson.  The  man  who  plunders  on  the  hi^^'i- 
5  way,  may  have  the  semblance  of  an  apolo^jy  for  what  he 
does.  An  affectionate  wife  may  demand  subsistence  : 
a  circle  of  helpless  children  raise  to  him  the  supplicat- 
ing hand  for  food.  He  may  be  driven  to  the  desperate 
act  by  the  high  mandate  of  imperative  necessity.     The 

10  mil(i  features  of  the  husband  and  the  father  may  inter- 
mintrle  with  those  of  the  robber  and  soften  the  roucrh- 
nessofthe  shade.  But  the  robber  of  character  plun- 
ders that  which  "not  enricheth  him,"  though  it  makes 
his  neighbour  "  poor   indeed.'* — The  man   who  at  the 

15  midnight  hour  consumes  his  neighbour's  dwelling,  does 
him  an  injury  which  perhaps  is  not  irreparable.  Indus- 
try may  rear  another  habitation.  The  storm  may  in- 
deed descend  upon  him  until  charity  opens  a  neighbour- 
ing door  :  the  rude  winds  of  heaven  may  whistle  around 

20  his  uncovered  family.  But  he  looks  forward  to  better 
days  ;  he  has  yet  a  hook  left  to  hang  a  hope  on.  No 
such  consolation  cheers  the  heart  of  him  whose  charac- 
ter has  been  torn  from  him.  If  innocent  he  may  look, 
like  Anaxagoras,  to  the  Heavens ;  but  he  must  be  con- 

25  strained  to  feel  this  world  is  to  him  a  wilderness.  For 
whither  shall  he  go?  Shall  he  dedicate  himself  to  the 
service  of  his  country  ?  But  will  his  country  receive 
him  ?  Will  she  employ  in  her  councils,  or  in  her  ar- 
mies, the  man  at  whom  the  **  slow  un moving   finger  ol 

30  scorn"  is  pointed  ?  Shall  he  betake  himself  t6  the 
fire-side  1  The  story  of  his  disgrace  will  enter  hi.*- 
own  doors  before  him.  And  can  he  bear,  think 
you,  can   he  bear  the  sympathising  agonies  of  a   dis- 


Ex.  68.]  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  325 

tressed  wife  ?     Can  he  endure  the  formidable  presence 

35  of  scrutinizing,  sneering  domestics?  Will  his  children 
receive  instruction  from  the  lips  of  a  disgraced  father  ? 
Gentlemen,  I  am  not  ranging  on  fairy  ground.  I  am 
telling  the  plain  story  of  my  client's  wrongs.  By  the 
ruthless  hand  of  malice  his  character  has  been  wanton- 

40  ly  massacred  ; — and  he  now  appears  before  a  jury  of  his 
country  for  redress.  Will  you  deny  him  this  redress  ? 
— Is  character  valuable  1  On  this  point  I  will  not  in- 
sult you  with  argument.  There  are  certain  things,  to 
argue  which  is  treason  against  nature.     The  author  of 

45  our  being  did  not  intend  to  leave  this  point  afloat  at  the 
mercy  of  opinion,  but  with  his  own  hand  has  he  kindly 
planted  in  the  soul  of  man  an  instinctive  love  of  charac* 
ter.  This  high  sentiment  has  no  affinity  to  pride.  It 
is  the  ennobling  quality  of  the   soul  :  and  if  we   have 

50  hitherto  been  elevated  above  the  ranks  of  surrounding 
creation,  human  nature  owes  its  elevation  to  the  love  of 
character.  It  is  the  love  of  character  for  which  the  poet 
has  sung,  the  philosopher  toiled,  the  hero  bled.  It  is 
the  love  of  character  which  wrought  miracles  at  ancient 

55  Greece  ;  the  love  of  character  is  the  eagle  on  which 
Rome  rose  to  empire.  And  it  is  the  love  of  character 
animating  the  bosom  of  her  sorts,  on  which  America 
must  depend  in  those  approaching  crises  that  may  "  try 
men's  souls.''     Will  a  jury   weaken   this  our  nation's 

60  hope  ?  Will  they  by  their  verdict  pronounce  to  the 
youth  of  our  country,  that  character  is  scarce  worth  pos- 
sessing ? 

We  read  of  that  philosophy  which  can  smile  over  the 
destruction  of  property — of  that  religion   which  enables 

65  its  possessor  to  extend  the  benign  look  of  forgiveness 
and  complacency  to  his  murderers.  But  it  is  not  in  the 
soul  of  man  to  bear  the  laceration  of  slander.  The  phi- 
losophy which  could  bear  it,  we  should  despise.  The 
religion  which  could  bear  it,  we  should   not   despise — 

70  but  we  should  be  constrained  to  say,  that  its  kingdom 
was  not  of  this  world. 

28 


326  EXERCISE^.  [Ex.  69. 

69.         Thunder  Storm. 

They  came  to  to  the  highlands.  It  was  the  latter  part 
of  a  calm,  sultry  day,  that  they  floated  gently  with  the 
tide  between  these  stern  mountains.  There  was  that 
perfect  quiet  which  prevails  over  nature  in  the  languor 
5  of  summer  heat  ;  the  turning  of  a  plank,  or  the  acciden- 
tal falling  of  an  oar  on  deck,  was  echoed  from  the  moun- 
tain side,  and  reverberated  along  the  shores  ;  and  if  by 
chance  the  captain  gave  a  shout  of  command,  there 
were  airy  tongues  that  mocked  it  from  every  cliff. 

10  I  gazed  about  me  in  mute  delight  and  wonder  at  these 
scenes  of  nature's  magnificence.  To  the  left  the  Dun- 
derberg  reared  its  woody  precipices,  height  over  height, 
forest  over  forest,  away  into  the  deep  summer  sky.  To 
the  right  strutted  forth  the  bold  promontory  of  Antony's 

15  Nose,  with  a  solitary  eagle  wheeling  about  it ;  while 
beyond,  mountain  succeeded  to  mountain,  until  they 
seemed  to  lock  their  arms  together,  and  confine  this 
mighty  river  in  their  embraces.  There  was  a  feelini:^ 
of  quiet  luxury  in  gazing  at  the   broad,  green   bosoms 

20  here  and  there  scooped  out  among  the  precipices ;  or 
at  woodlands  high  in  air,  nodding  over  the  edge  ofsom<' 
beetling  bluff,  and  their  foliage  all  transparent  in  the 
yellow  sunshine. 

In  the  midst  of  my  admiration,  I  remarked  a  pile  of 

25  bright,  snowy  clouds  peering  above  the  western  heights. 
It  was  succeeded  by  another,  and  another,  each  seem- 
ingly pushing  onwards  its  predecessor,  and  towerinL^ 
with  dazzling  brilliancy,  in  the  deep  blue  atmosphere  ; 
and  now  muttering  peals  of  thunder   were  faintly  heard 

30  rolling  behind  the  mountains.  The  river,  hitherto  still 
and  glassy,  reflecting  pictures  of  the  sky  and  land,  now 
showed  a  dark  ripple  at  a  distance,  as  the  breeze  camo 
creeping  up  it.  The  fish  hawks  wheeled  and  screamed, 
and  sought  their  nests  on  the  high  dry  trees  ;  the  crov ^ 

35  flew  clamorously  to  the  crevices  of  the  rocks,  and  ail 
nature  seemed  conscious  of  the   approaching  thunder- 


gust. 

The  clouds  now  rolled  in  volumes  over  the  mounta 
tops;  their  summits  still  bright  and  snowy,  but  the  lo^ 


I  a 


i 


Ex.  70.]  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  327 

40  er  parts  of  an  inky  blackness.  The  rain  began  to  pat- 
ter down  in  broad  and  scattered  drops  ;  the  wind  fresh- 
ened, and  curled  up  the  waves  ;  at  length  it  seemed  as  if 
the  bellying  clouds  were  torn  open  by  the  mountain 
tops,  and  complete  torrents  of  rain  came  rattling  down. 

45  The  lightning  leaped  from  cloud  to  cloud,  and  stream- 
ed quivering  against  the  rocks,  splitting  and  rending  the 
stoutest  forest  trees.  The  thunder  burst  in  tremendous 
explosions  ;  the  peals  were  echoed  from  mountain  to 
mountain  ;  they  crashed  upon  Dunderberg,  and  rolled 

50  up  the  long  defile  of  the  highlands,  each  headland  mak- 
ing a  new  echo,  until  old  Bull  hill  seemed  to  bellow  back 
the  storm. 

For  a  time  the  scudding  rack  and  mist,  and  the  sheet- 
ed rain,  almost  hid  the  landscape  from  the  sight.    There 

55  was  a  fearful  gloom,  illumined  still  more  fearfully  by  the 
streams  of  lightning  which  glittered  among  the  rain 
drops.  Never  had  I  beheld  such  an  absolute  warring  of 
the  elements  ;  it  seemed  as  if  the  storm  was  tearing  and 
rending  its  way  through  this  mountain   defile,  and  had 

60  brought  all  the  artillery  of  heaven  into  action. 

Irving. 
70.  Slavery. 

My  ear  is  pained. 

My  soul  is  sick,  with  every  day's  report 

Of  wrong  and  outrage,  with  which  earth  is  filled. 

There  is  no  flesh  in  man's  obdurate  heart, 
5  It  does  not  feel  for  man :  the  natural  bond 

Of  brotherhood  is  severed  as  the  flax 

That  falls  asunder  at  the  touch  of  fire. 

He  finds  his  fellow  guilty  of  a  skin 

Not  coloured  like  his  own  ;  and  having  power 
10  To  enforce  the  wrong,  for  such  a  worthy  cause, 

Dooms  and  devotes  him  as  his  lawful  prey. 

Lands  intersected  by  a  narrow  frith 

Abhor  each  other.     Mountains  interposed 

Make  enemies  of  nations,  who  had  else 
15  Like  kindred  drops  been  mingled  into  one. 

Thus  man  devotes  his  brother,  and  destroys ; 

And,  worse  than  all,  and  most  to  be  deplored, 


328  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  71. 

As  human  nature's  broadest,  foulest  blot, 
Chains  him,  and  tasks  him,  and  exacts  his  sweat 

20  With  stripes,  that  Mercy,  with  a  bleeding  heart, 
Weeps  wiien  she  sees  inflicted  on  a  beast. 
Then  what  is  man  ?     And  what  man,  seeing  this, 
And  having  human  feelinfrs,  does  not  blush, 
And  hang  his  head,  to  think  himself  a  man  ? 

25  I  would  not  have  a  slave  to  till  my  ground, 
To  carry  me,  to  fan  me  while  I  sleep. 
And  tremble  when  I  wake,  for  all  the  wealth 
That  sinews,  bought  and  sold,  had  ever  earn'd. 
No :  dear  as  freedom  is,  and  in  my  heart's 

30  Just  estimation  prized  above  all  price, 
I  had  much  rather  be  myself  the  slave. 
And  wear  the  bonds,  than  faslen  them  on  him. 
We  have  no  slaves  at  home — then  why  abroad  ? 
And  they  themselves  once  ferried  o'er  the  wave 

35  That  parts  us,  are  emancipate  and  loosed. 

Slaves  cannot  breathe  in  England ;  if  their  lungs 
Receive  our  air,  that  moment  they  are  free  ; 
They  touch  our  county,  and  their  shackles  fall. 
That's  noble,  and  bespeaks  a  nation  proud 

40  And  jealous  of  the  blessing.     Spread  it  then, 
And  let  it  circulate  through  every  vein 
Of  all  your  empire  ;  that,  where  Britain's  power 
Is  felt,  mankind  may  feel  her  mercy  too.  Cowpcr 


71.         Irruption  of  Hyder  AH, 

When  at  length  Hyder  Ali  found  that  he  had  to  do 
with  men  who  either  would  sign  no  convention,  or  whom 
no  treaty,  and  no  signature  could  bind,  and  who  were 
the  determined  enemies  of  human  intercourse  itself,  he 

5  decreed  to  make  the  country  possessed  by  these  incor- 
rigible and  predestinated  criminals  a  memorable  exam- 
ple to  mankind.  He  resolved,  in  the  gloomy  recessej^ 
of  a  mind  capacious  of  such  things,  to  leave  the  whok 
Carnatic  an  everlasting  monument  of  vengeance  ;  and 

10  to  put  perpetual  desolation  as  a  barrier  between  him  and 
those  against  whom  the  faith,  which  holds  the  moral  e|- 


Ex.   71.]  SECULAR    ELOQUENCE.  329 

ements  of  the  world  together,  was  no  protection.  lie 
became  at  length  so  confident  of  his  force,  so  collected 
in  his  might,  tliat  he  made  no   secret  whatsoever  of  his 

15  dreadful  resolution.  Having  terminated  his  disputes 
with  every  enemy,  and  every  rival,  who  buried  their 
mutual  animosities  in  their  common  detestation  against 
the  creditors  of  the  nabob  of  Arcot,  he  drew  from  every 
quarter,  whatever   a   savage   ferocity  could  add   to  his 

20  new  rudiments  in  the  arts  of  destruction  ;  and  com- 
pounding all  the  materials  of  fury,  havoc,  and  desola- 
tion, into  one  black  cloud,  he  hung  for  a  while  on  the 
declivities  of  the  mountains.  While  the  authors  of  all 
these  evils  were  idly  and    stupidly  gazing  on   this  men- 

25  acing  meteor,  which  blackened  all  their  horizon,  it  sud- 
denly burst,  and  poured  down  the  whole  of  its  contents 
upon  the  plains  of  the  Carnatic.  Then  ensued  a  scene 
of  wo,  the  like  of  which  no  eye  had  seen,  no  heart  con- 
ceived, and  which  no  tongue  can  adequately  tell.     All 

30  the  horrors  of  war  before  known  or  heard  of,  were  mer- 
cy to  that  new  havoc.  A  storm  of  universal  fire  blast- 
ed every  field,  consumed  every  house,  destroyed  every 
temple.  The  miserable  inhabitants  flying  from  their 
flaming  villages,  in  part  were  slaughtered  ;  others,  with- 

35  out  regard  to  sex,  to  age,  to  the  respect  of  rank,  or  sa- 
credness  of  function  ;  fathers  torn  from  children,  hus- 
bands from  wives,  enveloped  in  a  whirlwind  of  cavalry, 
and  amidyt  the  goading  spears  of  drivers,  and  the  tramp- 
ling of  pursuing  horses,  were  swept  into  captivity,  in  an 

40  unknown  and  hostile  land.  Those,  who  were  able  to 
evade  this  tempest,  fled  to  the  walled  cities.  But  es- 
caping from  fire,  sword,  and  exile,  they  fell  into  the 
jaws  of  famine. 

For  eighteen  months,  without   intermission,  this  de- 

45  struction  raged  from  the  gates  of  Madras  to  the  gates  of 
Tanjore  ;  and  so  completely  did  these  masters  in  their 
art,  Hyder  Ali  and  his  more  ferocious  son,  absolve 
themselves  of  their  impious  vow,  that  when  the  British 
armies  traversed,  as  they  did,  the  Carnatic  for  hundreds 

50  of  miles  in  all  directions,  throuorh  the  whole  line  of  their 
march,  they  did  not   see  one  man,  not  one   woman,  not 

28* 


330  ^EKCisKs.  [Ex.  72,  7o. 

one  child,  not  one  four-footed  beast  of  any  description 
whatever.  One  dead  uniform  silence  reigned  over  the 
whole  region."  Burlu, 


72.         Apostrophe  to  sleep. 

Sleep,  gentle  sleep, 

Nature's  soft  nurse,  how  have  I   frighted  thee. 

That  thou  no  more  wilt  weigh  my  eyelids  down. 

And  steep  my  senses  in  forgetfulness  ? 
5  Why  rather,  sleep,  liest  thou  in  smoky  cribs, 

Upon  uneasy  pallets  stretching  thee. 

And  hush'd  with  buzzing  night-flies  to  thy  slumber  : 

Than  in  the  perfum'd  chambers  of  the  great, 

Under  the  canopies  of  costly  state, 
10  And  lull'd  with  sounds  of  sweetest  melody. 

O  thou  dull  god,  why  liest  thou  with  the  vile, 

In  loathsome  beds  ;  and  leav'st  the  kingly  couch. 

A  watch-case,  or  a  common  'larum  bell  ? 

Wilt  thou  upon  the  high  and  giddy  mast 
15  Seal  up  the  ship-boy's  eyes,  and  rock  his  brains 

In  cradle  of  the  rude  imperious  surge  ; 

And  in  the  visitation  of  the  winds, 

Who  take  the  ruffian  billows  by  the  top. 

Curling  their  monstrous  heads,  and  hanging  them 
20  With  deaf'ning  clamours  in  the  slippery  clouds, 

That,  with  the  hurly,  death  itself  awakes  ? 

Canst  thou,  O  partial  sleep  !  give  thy  repose  ^ 

To  the  wet  sea-boy,  in  an  hour  so  rude  ;  n 

And,  in  the  calmest  and  most  stillest  night,  %'} 

25  With  all  appliances,  and  means  to  boot,  j 

Deny  it  to  a  king  ?  Shakspeare.  j 

73.  Vainly  of  power  and  misery  of  Kings, 

No  matter  where  ;  of  comfort  no  man  speak  : 
Let's  talk  of  graves,  of  worms,  and  epitaphs  ; 
Make  dust  our  paper,  and  with  rainy  eyes 
Write  sorrow  on  the  bosom  of  the  earth. 
5  Let's  choose  executors,  and  talk  of  wills  : 


Ex.  74.]  SECULAR   ELOCtUENCE.  331  ^ 

And  yet  not  so, — for  what  can  we  bequeath, 

Save  our  deposed  bodies  to  the  ground  ? 

Our  lands,  our  lives,  and  all  are  Bolingbroke's, 

And  nothing  can  we  call  our  own,  but  death ; 
10  And  that  small  model  of  the  barren  earth, 

Which  serves  as  paste  and  cover  to  our  bones. 

For  heaven's  sake,  let  us  sit  upon  the  ground, 

And  tell  sad  stories  of  the  death  of  kings  : — 

How  some  have  been  depos'd,  some  slain  in  war  ; 
15  Some  haunted  by  the  ghosts  they  have  depos'd  ; 

Some  poison'd  by  their  wives,  some  sleeping  kill'd  ; 

All  murder'd  : — For  within  the  hollow  crown  1 

That  rounds  the  mortal  temples  of  a  king. 

Keeps  death  his  court :  and  there  the  antic  sits, 
20  Scoffing  his  state,  and  grinning  at  his  pomp  ; 

Allowing  him,  a  breath,  a  little  scene 

To  monarchise,  be  fear'd,  and  kill  with  looks  ; 

Infusing  him  with  self  and  vain  conceit, — 

As  if  this  flesh,  which  walls  about  our  life, 
25  Were  brass  impregnable ;  and,  humour'd  thus, 

Comes  at  the  last,  and  with  a  little  pin 

Bores  through  his  castle  wall,  and — farewell  king  ! 

Cover  your  heads,  and  mock  not  flesh  and  blood 

With  solemn  reverence  ;  throw  away  respect, 
30  Tradition,  form,  and  ceremonious  duty, 

For  you  have  but  mistook  mc  all  this  while  : 

I  live  with  bread  like  you,  feel  want,  taste  grief, 

Need  friends  : — Subjected  thus. 

How  can  you  say  to  me — I  am  a  king  ? 

Shakspeare, 


74.         Reproof  of  the  Irish  Bishops. 

Here  are  the  sovereign  pontiff  of  the  Catholic  faith, 
and  the  Catholic  king  of  Spain,  distributing  one  third 
part  of  the  revenues  of  their  church  for  the  poor,  and 
here  are  some  of  the  enlightened  doctors  of  our  church 
depreciating  such  a  principle,  and  guarding  their  riches 
against  the  encroaching  of  christian  charity  ;  I  hope 
they  will  never  again  afford  such  an  opportunity  of  com- 


332  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  74. 

paring  them  with  the  pope,  or  contrasting  them  with  the 
apostles.     I  do  not  think  (heir  riches  will  be  diniinish- 

10  ed  ;  but  if  they  were  to  be  so — is  not  the  question  di- 
rectly put  to  them,  which  will  they  prefer?  their  flock 
or  their  riches  ?  for  which  did  Christ  die,  or  the  apos- 
tles suffer  martyrdom,  or  Paul  preach,  or  Luther  pro- 
test? was  it  for  the  tithe  of  flax,  or  the  tithe  of  barren 

15  land,  or  the  tithe  of  potatoes,  or  the  tithe-proctor,  or  the 
tithe-farmer,  or  the  tithe-pig  ?  Your  riches  are  secure ; 
but  if  they  were  impaired  by  your  acts  of  benevolence, 
does  our  religion  depend  on  your  riches  ?  On  such  a 
principle  your  Saviour  should  have  accepted  of  the  king- 

20  doms  of  the  earth,  and  their  glory,  and  have  capitulated 
with  the  devil  for  the  propagation  of  the  faith.  Never 
was  a  great  principle  rendered  prevalent  by  ]>ower  or 
riches; — low  and  artificial  means  are  resorted  to  for  ful- 
filling the  little  views  of  men,  their  love  of  power,  their 

25  avarice,  or  ambition  ;  but  to  apply  to  the  great  designs 
of  God  such  wretched  auxiliaries,  is  to  forget  his  divmi- 
ty  and  to  deny  his  omnipotence.  What  !  does  the  word 
come  more  powerfully  from  the  dignitary  in  purple  and 
fine  linen   than  it  came  from  the  poor  apostle  with  noth- 

SO  ing  but  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  on  his  lips,  and  the  glory 
of  God  standing  on  his  right  hand  ?  What !  my  lords« 
not  cultivate  barren  land  ;  not  encourage  the  manufac- 
tures of  your  country ;  not  relieve  the  poor  of  your  flock, 
if  the  church  is  to  be  at  any  expense  thereby  ! — Where 

35  shall  we  find  this  principle  ?  not  m  the  Bible.  I  have 
adverted  to  the  sacred  writings  without  criticism,  I  al- 
low, but  not  without  devotion — there  is  not  in  any  part 
of  them  such  a  sentiment — not  in  the  purity  of  Christ 
nor  the  poverty  of  the  apostles,  nor  the  prophecy  of  Isai- 

40  ah,  nor  the  patience  of  Job,  nor  the  harp  of  David,  nor 
the  wisdom  of  S(»lomon  !  No,  my  lords,  on  this  subject 
your  Bible  is  against  you — the  precepts  and  practice  of 
the  primitive  church  are  against  you — the  great  W(»rds 
increase  and  multif)ly — the  axiom   of  phMosophy,   that 

45  nature  does  nothin/  \n  vain — the  productive  principle 
that  formed  the  system,  and  defends  it  against  the  am- 
bition and  encroachments  of  its  own  elements — the  re- 


Ex.  75.]  SECULAR    ELOQUENCE.  333 

productive  principle  which  continues  the  system,  and 
which  makes  vegetation  support  life,    and  life  adminis- 

.50  ter  back  again  to  vegetation  ;  taking  from  the  grave  its 
sterile  quality,  and  making  death  itself  propagate  to  life 
and  succession — the  plenitude  of  things,  and  the  majes- 
ty of  nature,  through  all  her  organs,  manifest  against 
such  a  sentiment ;  this  blind   fatality  of  error,   which, 

55  under  pretence  of  defending  the  wealth  of  the  priest- 
hood, checks  the  growth  of  mankind,  arrests  his  indus- 
try, and  makes  the  sterility  of  the  planet  a  part  of  its  re- 
ligion. Grattan. 

75.         Speech  on  the  Greek  Revolution. 

It  may,  in  the  next  place,  be  asked,  perhaps,  suppos- 
ing all  this  to  be  true,  what  can  we  do  1  Are  we  to  go 
to  war  ?  Are  we  to  interfere  in  the  Greek  cause,  or 
any  other    European  cause  ?     Are  we  to  endanger  our 

6  pacific  relations  ? — No,  certainly  not.  V/hat,  then,  the 
question  recurs,  remains  for  us  ?  If  we  will  not  endan- 
ger our  own  peace,  if  we  will  neither  furnish  armies, 
nor  navies,  to  the  cause  which  we  think  the  just  one, 
what  is  there  within  our  power  ? 

10  Sir,  this  reasoning  mistakes  the  age.  The  time  has 
been,  indeed,  when  fleets,  and  armies,  and  subsidies, 
were  the  principal  reliances  even  in  the  best  cause. 
But,  happily  for  mankind,  there  has  come  a  great  change 
in  this  respect.     Moral  causes  come  into  consideration, 

15  in  proportion  as  the  progress  of  knowledge  is  advanced  ; 
and  the  public  opinion  of  the  civilized  world  is  rapidly 
gaining  an  ascendency  over  mere  brutal  force.  It  is 
already  able  to  oppose  the  most  formidable  obstruction 
to  the  progress  of  injustice   and  oppression ;  and,  as  it 

20  grows  more  intelligent  and  more  intense,  it  will  be  more 
and  more  formidable.  It  may  be  silenced  by  military 
power,  but  it  cannot  be  conquered.  It  is  elastic,  irre- 
pressible, and  invulnerable  to  the  weapons  of  ordinary 
warfare.     It  is  that  impassible,  unextinguishable  enemy 

25  of  mere  violence  and  arbitrary  rule,  which,  like  Milton's 
angels, 


334  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  76. 

*'Vital  in  every  part. 

Cannot,  but  by  annihilatiug;,  die.^^ 

Until  this  be  propitiated  or  satisfied,   it  is  vain  for 

30  power  to  talk  either  of  triumphs  or  of  repose.  No  mat- 
ter what  fields  are  desolated,  what  fortresses  surrender- 
ed, what  armies  subdued,  or  what  provinces  overrun. 
In  the  history  of  the  year  that  has  passed  by  us,  and  in 
the  instance  of  unhappy  Spain,  we  have  seen  the  vanity 

35  of  all  triumphs,  in  a  cause  which  violates  the  general 
sense  of  justice  of  the  civilized  world.  It  is  nothing, 
that  the  troops  of  France  have  passed  from  the  Pyre- 
nees to  Cadiz  ;  it  is  nothing  that  an  unhappy  and  pros- 
trate nation  has  fallen  before  them  ;  it  is  nothing  that 

40  arrests,  and  confiscation,  and  execution,  sweep  away  the 
little  remnant  of  national  resistance.  There  is  an  ene- 
my that  still  exists  to  check  the  glory  of  these  triumphs. 
It  follows  the  conqueror  back  to  the  very  scene  of  his 
ovations  ;  it  calls  upon  him  to  take  notice  that  Europe, 

45  though  silent,  is  yet  indignant ;  it  shows  him  that  the 
sceptre  of  his  victory  is  a  barren  sceptre  ;  that  it  shall 
confer  neither  joy  nor  honour,  but  shall  moulder  to  dry 
ashes  in  his  grasp.  In  the  midst  of  his  exultation,  it 
pierces  his  ear  with  the  cry  of  injured  justice,  it  denoun- 

50  ces  against  him  the  indignation  of  an  enlightened  and 
civilized  age  ;  it  turns  to  bitterness  the  cup  of  his  re- 
joicing, and  wounds  him  with  the  sting  which  belongs 
to  the  consciousness  of  having  outraged  the  opinion  of 
mankind.  Webster. 


76.  Character  of  Hcunilton. 

That  writer  would  deserve  the  fame  of  a  public  bene- 
factor, who  could  exhibit  the  character  of  Hamilton, 
with  the  truth  and  force,  that  all  who  intimately  knew 
him,  conceived  it :  his  example  would  then  take  the 
same  ascendant,  as  his  talents.  The  portrait  alone, 
however  exquisitely  finished,  could  not  inspire  genius 
where  it  is  not ;  but  if  the  world  should  again  have  pos- 
session of  so  rare  a  gift,  it  might  awaken  it  when  it 
deeps,  as  by  a  spark  from  heaven's  own  altar  ;  for  sure- 


Ex.  76.]  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  335 

10  ly  if  there  is  any  thing  like  divinity  in  man,  it  is  his  ad- 
miration of  virtue. 

But  who  alive  can  exhibit  this  portrait  ?  If  our  age, 
on  that  supposition,  more  fruitful  than  any  other,  had 
produced  two  Hamiltons,  one  of  them  might  have  de- 

15  picted  the  other.  To  delineate  genius,  one  must  feel 
its  power :  Hamilton,  and  he  alone,  with  all  its  inspi- 
rations, could  have  transfused  its  whole  fervid  soul  into 
the  picture,  and  swelled  its  lineaments  into  life.  The 
writer's  mind,  expanding  with  its  own  peculiar  enthusi- 

20  asm,  and  glowing  with  kindred  fires,  would  then  have 
stretched  to  the  dimensions  of  his'subject. 

Such  is  the  infirmity  of  human  nature,  it  is  very  dif- 
ficult for  a  man,  who  is  greatly  the  superiour  of  his  as- 
sociates, to  preserve  their  friendship  without  abatement ; 

25  yet,  though  he  could  not  possibly  conceal  his  superiori 
ty,  he  was  so  little  inclined  to  display  it,  he  was  so  much 
at  ease  in  his  possession,  that  no  jealousy  or  envy  chill- 
ed his  bosom,  when   his  friends  obtained   praise.     He 
was  indeed  so  entirely  the  friend  of  his  friends,  so  mag- 

30  nanimous,  so  superiour,  or,  more  properly,  so  insensible 
to  all  exclusive  selfishness  of  spirit ;  so  frank,  so  ardent, 
yet  so  little  overbearing,  so  much  trusted,  admired,  be- 
loved, almost  adored,  that  his  power  over  their  affections 
was  entire,  and  lasted  through  his  life.     We  do  not  be- 

35  lieve,  that  he  left  any  worthy  man  his  foe,  who  had  ev- 
er been  his  friend. 

Men  of  the  most  elevated  minds,  have  not  always  the 
readiest  discernment  of  character.  Perhaps  he  was 
sometimes  too  sudden   and  too  lavish  in  bestowing  his 

40  confidence  ;  his  manly  spirit  disdaining  artifice,  suspect- 
ed none.  But  while  the  power  of  his  friends  over  him 
seemed  to  have  no  limits,  and  really  had  none,  in  res- 
pect to  those  things  which  were  of  a  nature  to  be  yield- 
ed, no  man,  not  the   Roman   Cato   himself,  was  more 

45  inflexible  on  every  point  that  touched,  or  seemed  to 
touch  integrity  and  honour.  With  him,  it  was  not 
enough  to  be  unsuspected  ;  his  bosom  would  have  glow- 
ed like  a  furnace,  at  his  own  whispers  of  reproach. 
Mere  purity  would  have  seemed  to  him  below  praise  ; 


336  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  77. 

5P.and  such  were  his  habits,  and  such  his  nature,  that  the 
pecuniary  temptations  which  many  others  can  only  with 
great  exertion  and  sclPdcnial  resist,  had  no  attractions 
for  him.  He  was  very  far  from  obstinate ;  yet,  as  his 
friends  assailed  his  opinions  with  less  profound  thought 

55  than  he  had  devoted  to  them,  they  were  seldom  shaken 

by  discussion.     He  defended  them,   however,   with  as 

much  mildness  as  force,  and  evinced,  that  if  he  did  not 

yield,  it  was  not  for  want  of  gentleness  or  modesty. 

The  tears  that  flow  on  this  fond  recital  will  never  dry 

60  up.  My  heart,  penetrated  with  the  remembrance  of 
the  man,  grows  liquid  as  I  write,  and  I  could  pour  it 
out  like  water.  I  could  weep  too  for  my  country, 
which,  mournful  as  it  is,  does  not  know  the  half  of  its 
loss.     It  deeply  laments,  when  it  turns  its  eyes  back, 

65  and  sees  what  Hamilton  was ;  but  my  soul  stiffens  with 
despair,  when  I  think  what  Hamilton  would  have  been. 

Ames. 


77.         Slate  of  French  Republic, 

With  the  jacobins  of  France,  marriage  is  in  effect  an- 
nihilated ;  children  are  encouraged  to  cut  the  throats 
of  their  parents  ;  mothers  are  taught  that  tenderness  is 
no  part  of  their  character  ;  and  to  demonstrate  their  at- 
5  tachment  to  their  party,  that  they  ought  to  make  no 
scruple  to  rake  with  their  bloody  hands  in  the  bowels  of 
those  who  come  from  their  own. 

To  all  this  let  us  join  the  practice  of  cannibalism, 
with  which,  in  the  proper  terms,  and  with  the  greatest 
10  truth,  their  several  factions  accuse  each  other.  By  can- 
nibalism, I  mean  their  devouring,  as  a  nutriment  of  their 
ferocity,  some  part  of  the  bodies  of  those  they  have  mur- 
dered :  their  drinking  the  blood  of  their  victims,  and 
forcing  the  victims  themselves  to  drink  the  blood  of  their 
15  kindred,  slaughtered  before  their  faces.  By  cannibal- 
ism, I  mean  also  to  signify  all  their  nameless,  unman- 
ly, and  abominable  insults  on  the  bodies  of  those  they 
slaughter. 

As  to  those  whom  they  sutlbr  to  die  a  natural  death, 


Ex.  77.]  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  337 

'^0  they  do  not  permit  them  to  enjoy  the  last  consolations  of 
mankind,  or  those  rights  of  sepulture,  which  indicate 
hope,  and  which  mere  nature  has  taught  to  mankind  in 
all  countries  to  soothe  the  afflictions,  and  to  cover  the 
infirmity  of  mortal   condition.     They  disgrace  men   in 

'25  the  entry  into  life:  they  vitiate  and  enslave  them 
through  the  whole  course  of  it ;  and  they  deprive  them 
of  all  comfort  at  the  conclusion  of  their  dishonoured  and 
depraved  existence.  Endeavouring  to  persuade  the 
people  that  they  are  no  better  than    beasts,   the   whole 

;30  body  of  their  institution  tends  to  make  them  beasts  of 
prey,  furious  and  savage.  For  this  purpose  the  active 
part  of  them  is  disciplined  into  a  ferocity  which  has  no 
parallel.  To  this  ferocity  there  is  joined  not  one  of  the 
rude,  unfashioned  virtues  which   accompany   the  vices, 

35  where  the  whole  are  left  to  grow  up  together  in  the 
rankness  of  uncultivated  nature.  But  nothing  is  left  to 
nature  in  their  systems. 

The  same  discipline   which  hardens  their   hearts  re- 
laxes their  morals.     Whilst  courts  of  justice  were  thrust 

40  out  by  revolutionary  tribunals,  and  silent  churches  were 
only  the  funeral  monuments  of  departed  religion,  there 
were  no  fewer  than  nineteen  or  twenty  theatres,  great 
and  small,  most  of  them  kept  open  at  the  public  ex- 
pense, and  all  of  them   crowded  every   night.     Among 

45  the  gaunt,  haggard  forms  of  famine  and  nakedness,  amidst 
the  yells  of  murder,  the  tears  of  affliction,  and  the  cries 
of  despair  ;  the  song,  the  dance,  the  mimic  scene,  the 
buffoon  laughter,  went  on  as  regularly  as  in  the  gay 
hour  of  festive  peace.     I  have  it  from   good   authority, 

50  that  under  the  scaffold  of  judicial  murder,  and  the  gap- 
ing planks  that  poured  down  blood  on  the  spectators, 
the  space  was  hired  out  for  a  shew  of  dancing  dogs.  I 
think,  without  concert,  we  have  made  the  very  same  re- 
mark on  reading  some  of  their  pieces,  which  being  writ- 

55  ten  for  other  purposes,  let  us  into  a  view  of  their  social 
life.  It  struck  us  that  the  habits  of  Paris  had  no  resem- 
blance to  the  finished  virtues,  or  to  the  polished  vice, 
and  elegant,  though  not  blameless  luxury,  of  the  capital 
of  a  great  empire.  Their  society  was  more  like  that  of  a 
29 


338  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  78. 

60  den  of  outlaws  upon  a  doubtful  frontier ;  of  a  lewd  tav- 
ern for  the  revels  and  debauches  of  banditti,  assassins, 
bravos  and  smugglers  mixed  with  bombastic  players, 
the  refuse  and  rejected  offal  of  strolling  theatres,  puff- 
ing out  ill-sorted  verses  about  virtue,  mixed  with  the 

65  licentious  and  blasphemous  songs,  proper  to  the  brutal 
and  hardened  course  of  life  belonging  to  that  sort  of 
wretches.  This  system  of  manners  in  itself  is  at  war 
with  all  orderly  and  moral  society,  and  is  in  its  neigh- 
bourhood unsafe.     If  great  bodies  of  that  kind  were  any 

70  where  established  in  a  bordering  territory,  we  should 
have  aright  to  demand  of  their  governments  the  suppres- 
sion of  such  a  nuisance.  What  are  we  to  do  if  the  gov- 
ernment and  the  whole  community  is  of  the  same  des- 
cription ?     Yet  that  government  has  thought  proper  to 

75  invite  ours  to  lay  by  its  unjust  hatred,  and  to  listen  to 
the  voice  of  humanity  as  taught  by  their  example. 

Burke. 

78.  Cicero  for  Cluentius. 

You,  T.  Attius,  I  know,  had  every  where  given  it 
out,  that  I  was  to  defend  my  client,  not  from  facts,  not 
upon  the  footing  of  innocence,  but  by  taking  advanta^re 
merely  of  the  law  in  his   behalf.     Have  I  done  so  ?     I 

5  appeal  to  yourself.  Have  I  sought  to  cover  him  behind 
a  legal  defence  only  ?  On  the  contrary,  have  I  not 
pleaded  his  cause  as  if  he  had  been  a  senator,  liable,  f>y 
the  Cornelian  law,  to  be  capitally  convicted  ;  and  shown, 
that  neither  proof  nor  probable  presumption  lies  against 

10  his  innocence  ?  In  doing  so,  I  must  acquaint  you,  that 
I  have  complied  with  the  desire  of  Cluentius  himself. 
For  when  he  first  consulted  me  in  this  cause,  and  wht  n 
I  informed  him  that  it  was  clear  no  action  could  \m 
brought  against  him  from  the  Cornelian  law,  he  instant- 

15  ly  besought  and  obtested  me,  that  I  would  not  rest  Ins 
defence  upon  that  ground  :  saying,  with  tears  in  Ins 
eyes,  that  his  reputation  was  as  dear  to  him  as  his  lift  ; 
and  that  what  he  sought,  as  an  innocent  man,  was  nnt 
only  to  be  absolved  from  any  penalty,  but  to  be  acquii- 

^  ted  in  the  opinion  of  all  his  fellow-citizens. 


\ 

i 


Ex.  78. J  SECULAR  ELOQUENCE.  339 

Hitherto,  then,  I  have  pleaded  this  cause  upon  his 
plan.  But  my  client  must  forgive  me,  if  now  I  shall 
plead  it  upon  my  own.  For  I  should  be  wanting  to 
myself,  and  to  that  regard  which  my  character  and  sta- 

I'y  tion  require  me  to  bear  to  the  laws  of  the  state,  if  I 
should  allow  any  person  to  be  judged  of  by  a  law  which 
does  not  bind  him.  You,  Attius,  indeed  have  told  us, 
that  it  was  a  scandal  and  reproach,  that  a  Roman  knight 
should   be  exempted   from   those  penalties  to   which  a 

30  senator,  for  corrupting  judges,  is  liable.  But  I  must 
tell  you,  that  it  would  be  a  much  greater  reproach,  in  a 
state  that  is  regulated  by  law,  to  depart  from  the  law. 
What  safety  have  any  of  us  in  our  persons,  what  secu- 
rity for  our   rights,   if  the  law  shall  be  set  aside  ?     By 

35  what  title  do  you,  Q,.  Naso,  sit  in  that  chair,  and  pre- 
side in  this  judgment?  By  what  right,  T.  Attius,  do 
you  accuse,  or  do  I  defend  ?  Whence  all  the  solemni- 
ty and  pomp  of  judges,  and  clerks,  and  officers,  of  which 
this  house  is  full  ?     Does  not  all  proceed  from  the  law, 

40  which  regulates  the  whole  departments  of  the  state  ; 
which,  as  a  common  bond,  holds  its  members  together  ; 
and,  like  the  soul  within  the  body,  actuates  and  directs 
all  the  public  functions  ?  On  what  ground,  then,  dare 
you  speak   lightly  of  the  law,  or  move  that,  in  a  crini- 

45  inal  trial,  judges  should  advance  one  step  beyond  what 
it  permits  them  to  go  ?  The  wisdom  of  our  ancestors  has 
found,  that,  as  senators  and  magistrates  enjoy  higher 
dignities,  and  greater  advantages  than  other  members 
of  the  state,  the  law  should  also,  with  regard  to  them, 
be  more  strict,  and  the  purity  and   uncorruptedness  of 

50  their  morals  be  guarded  by  more  severe  sanctions.  But 
if  it  be  your  pleasure  that  this  institution  should  be  al- 
tered, if  you  wish  to  have  the  Cornelian  law  concern- 
ing bribery  extended  to  all  ranks,  then  let  us  join,  not 
in  violating  the  law,  but  in  proposing  to  have  this  alter- 

55  ation  made  by  a  new  law.  My  client,  Cluentius,  will 
be  the  foremost  in  this  measure,  who  now,  while  the 
old  law  subsists,  rejected  its  defence,  and  required  his 
cause  to  be  pleaded,  as  if  he  had  been  bound  by  it. 
But,  though  he  would  not  avail  himself  of  the  law,  you 


340  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  79. 

60  are  bound  in  jastice  not  to  stretch  it  beyond  its  proper 
limits. 


79.         Extract  from  Demosthenes, 

Yes,  Athenians,  I  repeat  it,  you  yourselves  are  tlie 
contrivers  of  your  own  ruin.  Lives  there  a  man  wlio 
has  confidence  enough  to  deny  it  ?  Let  him  arise,  and 
assign,  if  he  can.  any  other  cause  of  the  success  and 
5  prosperity  of  Philip — "  But,"  you  reply,  "what  Athens 
may  have  lost  in  reputation  abroad,  she  has  gained  in 
splendour  at  home.  Was  there  ever  a  greater  appear- 
ance of  prosperity  ;  a  greater  face  of  plenty  ?  Is  not 
the  city  enlarged  ?     Are  not  the  streets  better  paved, 

10  houses  repaired  and  beautified  ?" — Away  with  such  tri- 
fles !  Shall  I  be  paid  with  counters  ?  An  old  square 
new  vamped  up  !  a  fountain  !  an  aqueduct !  are  these 
acquisitions  to  brag  of?  Cast  your  eye  upon  the  magis- 
trate  under   whose  ministry  you  boast  these  precious 

15  improvements.  Behold  the  despicable  creature,  raised, 
all  at  once,  from  dirt  to  opulence ;  from  the  lowest  ob- 
scurity to  the  highest  honours.  Have  not  some  of  these 
upstarts  built  private  houses  and  seats,  vying  with  the 
most  sumptuous  of  our  public  palaces  ?     And  how  have 

20  their  fortunes  and  their  [)ower  increased,  but  as  the  com- 
monwealth has  been  ruined  and  impoverished  ? 

To  what  are  we  to  impute  these  disorders,  and  to 
what  cause  assign  the  decay  of  a  state  so  powerful  and 
flourishing  in  past  times  ?     The  reason  is   plain.     The 

25  servant  is  now  become  the  master.  The  magistrate  was 
then  subservient  to  the  people  ;  all  honours,  dignities, 
and  preferments,  were  disposed  by  the  voice  and  fa- 
vour of  the  people ;  but  the  magistrate,  now,  has  usurp- 
ed the  right  of  the  people,  and  exercises  an  arbitrary 

30  authority  over  his  ancient  and  natural  lord.  You,  mis- 
erable people  ! — the  meanwhile,  without  money,  without 
friends, — from  being  the  ruler,  are  become  the  servant  : 
from  being  the  master,  the  dependant :  happy  that  these 
governors,  into  whose  hands  you  have  thus  resigned  youi 

35  own  power,  are  so  good  and  so  gracious  as  to  continue 
your  poor  allowance  to  see  plays. 


Ex.  79.]  SECtTLAR  ELO<iUENCE.  341 

Believe  me,  Athenians,  if  recovering  from  this  leth- 
argy, you  would  assume  the  ancient  freedom  and  spirit 
of  your  fathers — if  you  would  be  your  own  soldiers  and 

40  your  own  commanders,  confiding  no  longer  your  affairs 
in  foreign  or  mercenary  hands — if  you  would  charge 
yourselves  with  your  own  defence,  employing  abroad,  for 
the  public,  what  you  waste  in  unprofitable  pleasures  at 
home — the  world  might  once  more  behold  you  making 

45  a  figure  worthy  of  Athenians. — *'  You  would  have  us, 
then,  (you  say,)  do  service  in  our  armies  in  our  own  per- 
sons ;  and,  for  so  doing,  you  would  have  the  pensions  we 
receive  in  time  of  peace,  accepted  as  pay  in  time  of  war. 
Is  it  thus  we  are  to  understand  you  ?" — Yes,  Athenians, 

50  'tis  my  plain  meaning.  I  would  make  it  a  standing  rule, 
that  no  person,  great  or  little,  should  b^  the  better  for 
the  public  money,  who  should  grudge  to  employ  it  for 
the  public  service.  Are  we  in  peace  ?  the  public  is 
charged  with  your  subsistence.     Are  we  in  war,  or  un- 

55  der  a  necessity,  as  at  this  time,  to  enter  into  a  war  ? 
let  your  gratitude  oblige  you  to  accept,  as  pay  in  defence 
of  your  benefactors,  what  you  receive,  in  peace,  as  mere 
bounty. — Thus,  without  any  innovation — without  alter- 
ing or  abolishing  any  thing  but  pernicious  novelties, 

60  introduced  for  the  encouragement  of  sloth  and  idleness 
— by  converting  only  for  the  future,  the  same  funds, 
for  the  use  of  the  serviceable,  which  are  spent,  at  pres- 
ent, upon  the  unprofitable,  you  may  be  well  served  in 
your  armies — your  troops  regularly  paid — ^justice  duly 

65  administered — the  public  revenues  reformed  and  increas- 
ed— and  every  member  of  the  commonwealth  rendered 
useful  to  his  country,  according  to  his  age  and  ability, 
without  any  further  burden  to  the  state. 


29^ 


342  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  60. 

80.  BroughanCs  Speech^  on  the  sptech  made  by  (he  Duke  of 
York  in  the  house  of  Lords^  on  the  Catholic  question^ 
which  his  Lordship  concluded  by  saying  ^^  I  am  deter- 
mi  tied  ^  to  whatever  censure  or  obloquy  I  may  be  exposed 
by  making  this  declaration^  to  persevere  in  my  opposition 
to  these  claims^  so  help  me  ood.^' 

Will  any  man  tell  me  that  he  has  now  contident  hopes 
of  the  Catliolic  question  ?     We  are  told  that  ue  are  not 
to  try  the  question  of  the   40s.  freeholders   on   its  own 
merits,  but  that  the  measure  is  expedient,  because  it  will 
5     ensure  the  passin^^r  of  the  Catholic  Bill.    Tiiis  argument 
might  have  been  used  twenty-four   hours  ago,  but  does 
any  man  believe,  after  what  has  passed,  that  the  enact- 
ment of  this  measure  will  be  sure  to  carry  the  Catholic 
Bill?     What  earthly  security  have  I,  that  if  I  abandon 
10  my  privileges  and  my  duty  as  a  legislator,  by  voting  for 
this  measure  in  the  dark,  I   shall  even  have  the  suppos- 
ed compensation,  for  this  abandonment  and  betrayal  of 
my  duty,  the   passing  of  the   Catholic  Bill  ?     1  repeat, 
that  this  might  have  been  urged  as  an  argument  two  or 
15  three  days  ago ;  but  does  any  man    really   believe  now 
that  the  Catholic  Bill  will  pass  ?  Does  any  man  believe 
that  the  ominous  news  of  this  day,  which  has  gone  fortli 
to  England  and  Ireland,   will  not  ring  the   knell  of  de- 
spair in  the  ears  of  the  Catholics  ?     I  am  not  an  enemy 
'20  to  consistency  of  action  ;  I  do  not  condemn  the  candid 
expression  of  sincere   conviction  ;  I  do  not  even   mnt 
plain  of  the  violence  of  zeal,  or  censure  the   pronm 
tion  of  honest  obstinacy,  however  erroneous  ;  but  when 
I  behold  those  manly  feelings  darkened  by   ignoranct 
25  and  inflamed  by  prejudice,   and   blinded   by   bigotry,  1 
will  not  hesitate  to  assert,  that  no  monarch  ever  came 
to  the  throne  of  these  realms  in  such  a  spirit  of  direct 
and  predetermined,  and  predeclared,  hostility  to  the  opin- 
ions and  wishes  of  the  people.    I  repeat,  then,  that  when 
30  that  event*  shall  have  taken  place,  it  will  be  im}>ossibl( 
to  carry  the  question  of  emancipation  ;  nay,  that  its  suc- 

•  The  acceuion  of  the  Duke  of  York,  who  was  heir  apparent 
to  the  throxie. 


V-       OF  THE         ^^ 
Ex.  80.]  SECULAR  ELOQ,U£NCE.         //tt  yf  T^rtSfT  P^  S  I  T 


cess  is  even  at  present  surrounded  by  doub^tod^ danger, 
while  such  opposition  is  brewing  against  it  ni>*^uch  a 
quarter.     Instead  of  a  majority  of  twenty-seven  mem- 

35  bers  of  this  house,  to  save  the  empire  from  convulsion, 
which,  within  the  last  twenty  four  hours,  has  become 
ten  thousand  times  more  petrifying  to  the  imagination ; 
I  believe  nothing  can  save  Ireland — nothing  can  pre- 
serve the  tranquillity  of  Ireland  and  save  England  from 

40  new  troubles,  but  a  large  increase  of  the  majority  on  the 
question.  Now,  then,  is  the  time  to  carry  it  or  not  for 
years — and  even  now  you  can  carry  it  only  by  an  over- 
whelming majority  of  this  House.  This  is  the  hour  of  its 
good  fortune.     I  his  reign — the  present  reign,  is  the  crit- 

45  ical  moment  of  its  probable  success. — The  time  may  pass 
quickly  by  you — the  glorious  opportunity  may  soon  be 
lost.  After  a  little  sleeping,  and  a  little  debating,  and  a 
little  sitting  upon  these  benches,  and  a  little  folding  of 
your  arms,  and  a  short,  passing  space  of  languid  procras- 

50  tination,  the  present  auspicious  occasion  will  have  dis- 
appeared, and  the  dominion  of  bigotry  and  despotism 
will  come  in  all  its  might  upon  our  slumberings,  like  an 
armed  man  in  the  night,  and  destroy  the  peace  of  Ire- 
land, and  endanger  the  safety  of  England,  and  threaten 

55  the  liberties  of  the  general  Empire. — But  God  forbid 
that  such  a  time  may  ever  arrive  !  Yet,  if  it  is  destined 
to  come  upon  us,  late  and  far,  far  distant  from  us  be  the 
ill-omened  crisis.  If  I  were  a  lover  of  discord — Sir,  I 
am  not  a  lover  of  discord — and  those  perhaps  who  con- 

60  sider  me  so,  are  only  not  lovers  of  di^cord,  because  they 
prefer,  to  what  they  call  discord  and  commotion,  the 
solitude,  which  absolute,  unthinking  obedience  pays  to 
unmitigated  despotism.  I  respect  all  men's  consciences. 
God  forbid  that  I  should  not  give  to  their  honest  differ- 

65  ences  of  opinion  that  toleration  which  I  challenge  for 
myself.  I  have  said  that  a  want  of  conscientious  hon-^ 
esty  and  frankness  is  the  last  charge  which  I  would 
bring  against  any  man  either  within  these  walls  or  cut 
of  doors  ;   but  I  have   lived  long  enough  to  know   that 

70  most  antagonists,  provided  they  be  not  honest,  enlight- 
ened men,  are  very  often  the  most  perverse  and  perti- 
nacious antagonists,  and  that  all  hopes  of  reclaiming  them 


544  EXEECISM.  [Ex.  81. 

from  their  errors,  *'  so  help  them  Ood/'  is  impossible. 
It  becomes  us  then,  to  set  our  House  in  order  by  times, 

75  and  to  recollect,  that  if  we  carried  up  the  Bill,  on  a  for- 
mer occasion,  with  a  majority  of  nineteen,  and  it  failed 
in  the  House  of  Peers,  there  is  ten  thousand  fold  the 
necessity  for  taking  this  last  opportunity  of  bringing  the 
question  to  a  conclusion  because  an  event  may   happen 

80  — God  knows  how  soon  or  how  late,  but  God  forbid  that 
it  should  be  soon,  when  you  will  have  no  longer  the  op- 
tion ;  when  even  if  the  Bill  should  be  carried — not  by  a 
majority  of  nineteen  or  twenty-seven — but  by  a  unani- 
mous vote  of  both  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  the  voice 

85  of  the  whole  country — even  if  the  country  streamed  with 
blood,  the  measure  could  not  be  effected  except  by  an 
inseparable  breach  of  the  Crown. 


81.         Dangers  which  beset  the  Literature  of  tht  age. 

There  are  dangers  of  another  sort,  which  beset  the 
literature  of  the  age.  The  constant  demand  for  new 
works  and  the  impatience  for  fame,  not  only  stimulate 
authors  to  an   undue  eagerness  for  strange   incidents, 

d  singular  opinions,  and  vain  sentimentalities,  but  their 
style  and  diction  are  infected  with  the  faults  of  extrava- 
gance and  affectation.  The  old  models  of  fine  writing 
and  good  taste  are  departed  from,  not  because  they  can 
be  excelled,  but   because  they  are   known,   and   want 

10  freshness ;  because,  if  they  have  a  finished  coloring, 
they  have  no  strong  contrasts  to  produce  effect.  The 
consequence  is,  that  op|X)site  extremes  in  the  manner 
of  composition  prevail  at  the  same  moment,  or  succeed 
each  other  with  a  fearful  rapidity.     On  one  side  are  to 

15  be  found  authors,  who  profess  to  admire  the  easy  flow 
and  simplicity  of  the  old  style,  the  naturalness  of  famil- 
iar prose,  and  the  tranquil  dignity  of  higher  composi- 
tions. But  in  their  desire  to  be  simple,  they  become 
extravagantly  loose  and   inartificial ;  in  their  familiar- 

20  ity,  feeble  and  drivelling  ;  and  in  their  more  aspiring  ef- 
forts, cold,  abstract,  and  harsh.  On  the  other  side, 
there  are  those,  who  have  no  love  for  polished  perfection 
of  style,  for  siutaioed  and  uuimpassioned  accuracy,  ibr 


i 


Ex.  81.]  SECULAR  ELO<iUENCE.  345 

persuasive,    but   equable   diction.     They   require  more 

'25  hurried  tones,  more  stirring  spirit,  more  ^lowing  and  ir- 
regular sentences.  There  must  be  intensity  of  thought 
and  intensity  of  phrase  at  every  turn.  There  must  be 
bold  and  abrupt  transitions,  strong  relief,  vivid  coloring, 
forcible   expression.      If  these  are    present,   all    other 

'iO  faults  are  forgiven,  or  forgotten.  Excitement  is  pro- 
duced, and  taste  may  slumber. 

Examples  of  each  sort  may  be  easily  found  in  our 
miscellaneous  literature  among  minds  of  no  ordinary 
cast.     Our  poetry  deals  less  than  formerly  with  the  sen- 

35  timents  and  feelings  belonging  to  ordinary  life.  It  has 
almost  ceased  to  be  didactic,  and  in  its  scenery,  and  de- 
scriptions reflect  too  much  the  peculiarities  and  mor- 
bid visions  of  eccentric  minds.  How  little  do  we  see 
of  the   simple  beauty,  the   chaste  painting,  the   uncon- 

40  scious  moral  grandeur  of  Crabbe  and  Cowper  ?  We 
have,  indeed,  successfully  dethroned  the  heathen  dei- 
ties. The  Muses  are  no  longer  invoked  by  every  un- 
happy inditer  of  verse.  The  Naiads  no  longer  inhabit 
our  fountains,  nor  the   Dryads  our   woods.     The  River 

45  Gods  no  longer  rise,  like  old  father  Thames, 

"  And  the  hushM  waves  glide  softly  to  the  shore." 

In  these  respects  our  poetry  is  more  true  to  nature, 
and  more  conformable  to  just  taste.  But  it  still  insists 
too  much  on  extravagant  events,  characters,  and  pas- 
sions far  removed  from  common  life,  and  farther  remov- 

50  ed  from  general  sympathy.  It  seeks  to  be  wild,  and 
fiery,  and  startling ;  and  sometimes,  in  its  caprices,  low 
and  childish.  It  portrays  natural  scenery,  as  if  it  were 
always  in  violent  commotion.  It  describes  human  emo- 
tions as    if  man  were  always  in  ecstasies   or    horrors. 

55  Whoever  writes  for  future  ages  must  found  himself  upon 
feelings  and  sentiments  belonging  to  the  mass  of  man- 
kind. Whoever  paints  from  nature  will  rarely  depart 
from  the  general  character  of  repose  impressed  upon  her 
scenery,  and   will  prefer  truth  to  the  ideal  sketches  of 

<^»0  the  imagination.  Story* 


346  £XERCISES.  [Ex.  82. 

82.  Tribute  to  Henry  Kirk  White. 

Unhappy  White  !  while  life  was  in  its  spring, 
And  thy  young  Muse  just  wavM  her  joyous  wing, 
The  si>oilcr  came  ;  all,  all  thy  promise  fair 
Has  sought  the  grave,  to  sleep  forever  there. 
6  Oh !  what  a  noble  heart  was  here  undone, 
When  Science'  self  destroy'd  her  favourite  son  ! 
Yes,  she  too  much  indulged  thy  fond  pursuit, 
She  sow'd  the  seeds,  but  Death  has  reap'd  the  irun 
'Twas  thine  own  genius  gave  the  final  blow, 

10  And  help'd  to  plant  the  wound  that  laid  thee  low  : 
So  the  struck  eagle  stretch'd  upon  the  plain, 
No  more  through  rolling  clouds  to  soar  again, 
View'd  his  own  feather  on  the  fatal  dart. 
And  wing'd  the  shaft  that  quiver'd  in  his  heart;     ^^    _ 

15  Keen  were  his  pangs,  but  keener  far  to  feel,  ^H   I 

He  nurs'd  the  pinion  which  impelTd  the  steel. 
While  the  same  plumage  that  had  warm'd  his  nest, 
Drank  the  last  life-drop  of  his  bleeding  breast. 

Bjfrtfih 


II 


SACKED  ELOQUENCE. 


83.         Defence  of  Pulpit  Eloquence. 

It  is  sufficiently  evident,  that  eloquence  has  a  strong 
influence  over  the  minds  and  passions  of  men. 

T  do  not  call  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  those  com- 
positions which  filled  Athens  with  valour,  which  agitat- 

5  ed  or  calmed,  at  the  will  of  the  orator,  the  bosoms  of  a 
thousand  warriors,  and  which,  all  nations  have  consent- 
ed to  immortalize.  The  thunder  which  Demosthenes 
hurled  at  the  head  of  Philip,  continues  to  roll  to  the 
present  hour;  and  his  eloquence,  stripped  as  it  isof  ac- 

10  tion  and  utterance,  mutilated  by  time,  and  enfeebled  by 
translation,  is  yet  powerful  enough  to  kindle  in  our  bo- 
soms, at  this  remote  age,  a  fire,  which  the  hand  of  death 
has  extinguished  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  were  origi- 
nally addressed  !     We  pass  over,   also,  the    eloquence 

15  which  Cicero  poured  out,  in  a  torrent  so  resistless,  that 
the  awful  senate  of  Rome  could  not  withstand  its  force ; 
an  eloquence  that  could  break  confederacies,  disarm 
forces,  control  anarchy  ! — an  eloquence  that  years 
cannot  impair,  age   cannot   weaken,   time  cannot   des- 

20  troy  !  But  we  appeal  to  its  influence,  in  an  age  not 
very  remote,  nor  very  unlike  the  present,  in  a  neigh- 
bouring country,  in  the  ministerial  profession.  The 
name  of  Massillon  was  more  attractive  than  all  the 
perfumes  that   Arabia  could  furnish  ;  and  this  was  the 

25  incense  that  filled  the  churches  of  spiritual  Babylon. 
The  theatre  was  forsaken,  w  hile  the  church  was  crowd- 
ed ;  the  court  forgot  their  amusements,  to  attend  the 
preacher  ;  and  his  spirit-controling  accents  drew  the 
monarch  from  his  throne  to  his  feet,  stopped  the  inipet- 


348  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  83. 

30  uoiis  stream  of  dissipation,  and  compelled  the  mocking 
world  to  listen  !  This  is  not  a  picture  delineated  by  fan- 
cy, but  a  representation  of  facts;  and  it  is  well  known, 
that  no  fashionable  amusements  had   attractions   when 
the  French  bishop  was  to  ascend  the  pulpit.     While  he 
35  spoke,  the  king  trembled  ;  while  he  denounced  the   in- 
dignation of  God  against  a  corrupted   court,  nobility 
shrunk  into  nothingness  ;  while  he  described  the   hor- 
rors of  a  judgment  to  come,  infidelity  turned  pale,  and 
the  congregation,  unable  to  support  the  thunder  of  his 
40  language,  rose  from  their  seats  in   agony  !     Let  these 
instances  suffice  to   shew  the  power  of  eloquence,  the 
influence  which  language  well  chosen  has  upon  the  mind 
of  man,  who  alone,  of  all  the  creatures  of  God,  is  able 
to  transmit  his  thoughts  through  the  medium  of  speech, 
45  to  know,  to  relish,  and  to  use  the  charms  of  language. 
I  am  well  aware  that  an  argument  is  deduced   from 
the  power  of  eloquence  against  the  use  of  it  in  the  pul- 
pit.    '  It  is  liable  to  abuse ;'  say  they,  '  it  tends  to  im- 
pose upon  the  understanding,  by  fascinating  the  imagi- 
60  nation.'     Most  true  !  it  is  liable  to  abuse  ;  and  what  is 
there  so  excellent  in  its  nature  that  is   not  ?     The  doc- 
trines of  grace  have  been  abused  to  licentiousness ;  and 
the  liberty  of  Christianity  '  used  as  a  cloak  of  malicious- 
ness.'    This,   however,  is  no  refutation  of  those  doc- 
55  trines,  no  argument  against  that  liberty.     Because  elo- 
quence  has  been  abused,  because  it  has  served  Anti- 
christ, or   rendered  sin   specious,   is  it,  therefore,  less 
excellent  in   itself?  or  is  it,  for  that  reason,  to  be   re- 
jected from  the  service  of  holiness?     No;  let  it  be  em- 
60  ployed  in  the  service  of  God,  and  it  is  directed  to  its 
noblest  ends;  it  answers  the  best  of  purposes? 

*  But  the  most  ehxjuent  are  not  always  the  most  use- 
ful ;  and  God  hath  chosen  the  ignorant,  in  various  in- 
stances, to  confound  the  wise.'  It  is  granted.  But 
65  does  God  uniformly  work  one  way  ?  When  he  sends 
it  is  by  whom  he  will  send  ;  and  he  can  qualify,  and 
does  qualify  those  whom  he  raises  up  for  himself.  He 
can  give  powers  as  a  substitute  for  literature,  and 
bj  bis  own  energy  effect  that  which  eloquence  alom 


Ex.  83.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  349 

70  cannot.  But  we  set  not  up  this  attainment  against  his 
energy,  we  know  that  it  is  useful  only  in  dependence 
upon  it.  We  know,  too,  why  the  ignorant  are  frequent- 
ly exalted  in  the  scale  of  usefulness,  to  show  that  '  the 
power  is  not  of  man,  but  of  God  ;'  and    '  that  no  flesh 

75  should  glory  in  his  presence.'  But  has  he  not  blessed 
talents  also,  for  the  same  important  purpose  ?  Has  he 
never  employed  eloquence  usefully  ?  Has  his  favour 
been  uniformly  limited,  or  ever  limited  to  the  illiterate  ? 
Because  he  sometimes  works  without  the  means,  and 

80  apparently  in  defiance  of  the  means,  are  we  therefore 
to  lay  them  aside  ?  Who  possessed  more  advantages,  or 
more  eloquence  than  the  apostle,  whose  words  are  al- 
luded to  in  this  objection  ?  Did  Paul  make  a  worse 
preacher  for  being  brought  up  at  the  feetof  Gamaliel  ? 

85  But  the  gospel  of  Jesus  disdains  such  aseistance : 
for  the  apostle  says  to  the  Corinthians,  '  I  came  not  to 
you  with  excellency  of  speech  :' — '  and  my  speech,  and 
my  preaching,  was  not  with  enticing  words  of  men's 
wisdom.'     That  the  gospel  of  Jesus  disdains  the  assis- 

90  tance  of  eloquence,  in  a  certain  sense,  I  admit.  It  will 
not  accept  of  any  thing  as  its  support.  It  stands  upon 
its  own  inherent  excellence,  and  spurns  all  extraneous 
aid.  It  is  a  sun  absorbing  every  surrounding  luminary. 
Its  beauty  eclipses  every  charm  brought  in  comparison 

05  with  it.  Yet,  is  this  a  reason  why,  in  enforcing  its 
glorious  truths  upon  our  fellow-men,  we  should  disdain 
assistance  which,  although  it  aids  not  the  gospel,  is 
useful  to  them  ?  Follow  the  opposite  principle,  and 
lay  aside  preaching.  The  gospel  approves  itself  to  the 
100  conscience  ;  every  attempt  to  illustrate  and  enforce  it 
is  useless,  when  applied  to  the  truth  itself,  for  it  cannot 
be  rendered  more  excellent  than  it  is :  yet  it  may  be 
rendered  more  perspicuous  to  our  fellow-men,  it  needs 
enforcing  as  it  regards  them  ;  and  preaching  has  been 
105  instituted  by  God  himself  for  that  express  purpose.  So 
eloquence  cannot  render  assistance  to  the  gospel  itself; 
but  may  be  useful  to  those  who  attend  it.  True  elo- 
quence has  for  its  object,  not  merely  to  please,  but  to 
render  luminous  the  subject  discussed,   and  to  reach 

110  the  hearts  of  those  cencerned. 
30 


350  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  84. 

We  live  in  a  day  when  it  becomes  us  to  be  equal  ev- 
ery way  to  our  adversaries.  This  we  never  can  be,  if 
we  cherish  a  contempt  for  liberal  science,  luhdelity 
lifts  her  standard,  and  advances,  with  daring   front,  to 

115  'defy  the  armies  of  the  living  God.'  Distinguished 
talents  rally  around  her  ensign.  The  charms  of  elo- 
quence, the  force  of  reason,  the  majesty  of  literature, 
the  light  of  science,  are  all  enlisted  under  her  banner  ; 
are  all  opposed  to  '  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.'     Let  us, 

120  in  reliance  upon  divine  aid,  meet  them  upon  equal 
terms,  contend  with  them  on  their  own  ground,  turn 
against  them  their  own  weapons  !  Let  us  meet  them  in 
the  plain,  or  upon  the  mountain  ;  let  us  ascend  to  their 
elevation,  or  stoop  to  their  level !    Let   us  oppose  sci- 

125  ence  to  science,  eloquence  to  eloquence,  light  to  light, 
energy  to  energy  !  Let  us  prove  that  we  are  their  equals 
in  intellect,  their  colleagues  in  literature  .  but  that,  in 
addition  to  this,  '  One  is  our  master,  even  Christ,' — 
that  we  have   '  a  more  sure  word   of  prophecy,' — and 

130  that  our  light,  borrowed  from  the  fountain  of  illumina- 
tion, will  shine  with  undiminished  lustre,  when  their 
lamp,  fed  only  by  perishable,  precarious  supplies,  shall 
be  for  ever  extinguished  ! 


84.  The  Blind  Preacher. 

One  Sunday,  as  I  travelled  through  the  county  of 
Orange,  my  eye  was  caught  by  a  cluster  of  horses  tied 
near  a  ruinous,  old,  wooden  house,  in  the  forest,  not  far 
from  the  road-side.  Having  frequently  seen  such  ob- 
5  jects  before,  in  travelling  through  these  states,  I  had  no 
difficulty  in  understanding  that  this  was  a  place  of  reli- 
gious worship.  Devotion  alone  should  have  stopped 
me,  to  join  in  the  duties  of  the  congregation ;  but  I 
miist  confess,  that  curiosity  to  hear  the  preacher  of  such 
10  a  wilderness,  was  not  the  least  of  my  motives. 

On  entering  the  house,  I  was  struck  with  his  preter- 
natural appearance.  He  was  a  tall  and  very  spare  old 
man — his  head,  which  was  covered  with  a  white  linen 
cap ;  his  shrivelled  hands,  and  his  voice,  were  all  shaken 


Ex.  84.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  351 

15  under  the  influence  of  a  palsy,  and  a  few   rtioments   as- 
certained to  me  that  he  was   perfectly  blind.     The  first 
emotions  which  touched  my  breast,  were  those  of  min 
gled  pity  and  veneration.     But  ah  !  How  soon  were  all 
my  feelings  changed  !     It  was  a  day  of  the  administra- 

20  tion  of  the  sacrament,  and  his  subject,  of  course,  was 
the  passion  of  our  Saviour.  I  had  heard  the  subject 
handled  a  thousand  times ;  I  had  thought  it  exhausted 
long  ago.  Little  did  I  suppose,  that  in  the  wild  woods 
of  America,  I  was  to  meet  with  a  man  whose  eloquence 

25  would  give  to  this  topic,  a  new  and  more  sublime  pathos 
than  I  had  ever  before  witnessed. 

As  he  descended  from  the  pulpit,  to  distribute  the 
mystic  symbol,  there  was  a  peculiar,  a  more  than  hu- 
man solemnity  in  his  air  and  manner,   v^hich  made   my 

30  blood  run  cold,  and  my  whole  frame  to  shiver.  He 
then  drew  a  picture  of  the  sufferings  of  our  Saviour — 
his  trial  before  Pilate — his  ascent  up  Calvary — his  cru- 
cifixion— and  his  death.  I  knew  the  whole  history  ; 
but  never,  until  then,  had  I  heard  the  circumstances  so 

35  selected,  so  arranged,  so  coloured  ?  It  was  all  new  ; 
and  I  seemed  to  have  heard  it  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life.  His  enunciation  was  so  deliberate,  that  his  voice 
trembled  on  every  syllable  ;  and  every  heart  in  the  as- 
sembly trembled  in  unison. 

40  His  peculiar  phrases,  had  that  force  of  description, 
that  the  original  scene  appeared  to  be,  at  that  moment, 
acting  before  our  eyes.  We  saw  the  very  faces  of  the 
Jews — the  staring,  frightful  distortions  of  malice  and 
rage.     We    saw   the    buffet — my  soul    kindled    with   a 

45  flame  of  indignation,  and  my  hands  were  involuntarily 
and  convulsively  clenched.  But  when  he  came  to 
^ouch  the  patience,  the  forgiving  meekness  of  our  Sa- 
viour— when  he  drew,  to  the  life,  his  blessed  eyes  stream- 
ing in  tears  to  heaven — his  voice   breathing   to  God,    a 

50  soft  and  gentle  prayer  of  pardon  on  his  enemies,  "  Fa- 
ther, forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do," — 
the  voice  of  the  preacher,  which  had  all  along  faulter- 
ed,  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  until  his  utterance  being 
entirely  obstructed  by  the  force  of  his  feelings,  he  rais- 

55  ed  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes,  and   burst  into  a  loud 


352  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  85. 

and  irrepressible  flood  of  grief.     The  effect  was   incon- 
cei\Mible.     The  whole  house   resounded   with  the  min- 
gled groans,  and  sobs,  and  shrieks  of  the  congregation. 
It  was  some  time  before  the  tumult   had  subsided,  so 

00  far  as  to  permit  him  to  proceed.  Indeed,  judging  by 
the  usual,  but  fallacious  standard  of  my  own  weakness, 
I  began  to  be  very  uneasy  for  the  situation  of  the 
preacher.  For  I  could  not  conceive,  how  he  would  be 
able  to  let  his  audience  down  from  the   height  to  which 

65  he  had  wound  them,  without  impairing  the  solemnity 
and  dignity  of  his  subject,  or  perhaps  shocking  them  by 
the  abruptness  of  the  fall.  But  the  descent  was  as 
beautiful  and  sublime,  as  the  elevation  had  been  rapid 
and  enthusiastic. 

70  The  first  sentence  with  which  he  broke  the  awful 
silence,  was  a  quotation  from  Rousseau  :  '*  Socrates 
died  like  a  philosopher,  but  Jesus  Christ,  like  a  God  !  !" 
Never  before  did  I  completely  understand  what  Demos- 
thenes meant  by  laying  such  stress  on  delivery. 

Wirt, 

85.         jroe/2:l— 11. 

Joel  ii. — 1  Blow  ye  the  trumpet  in  Zion,  and  sound 
an  alarm  in  my  holy  mountain  :  let  all  the  inhabitants  ot 
the  land  tremble  :  for  the  day  of  the  Lord  cometh,  for  it  is 
nigh  at  hand  ;  2  A  day  of  darkness  and  of  gloominess,  a 
day  of  clouds  and  of  thick  darkness,  as  the  morning  spread 
upon  the  mountains  :  a  great  people  and  a  strong ;  there* 
hath  not  been  ever  the  like,  neither  shall  be  any  more 
after  it,  even  to  the  years  of  many  generations.  3  A  fire 
devoureth  before  them;  and  behind  them  a  flame  burn- 
eth :  the  land  is  as  the  garden  of  Eden  before  them, 
and  behind  them  a  desolate  wilderness ;  yea,  and  noth- 
ing shall  escape  them.  4  The  appearance  of  them  is  aj< 
the  appearance  of  horses ;  and  as  horsemen  so  shall  they 
run.  5  Like  the  noise  of  chariots  on  the  tops  of  moun- 
tains shall  they  leap,  like  the  noise  of  a  flame  of  fire 
that  devoureth  the  stubble,  as  a  strong  people  set  in  bat- 
tle-array. 0  Before  their  face  the  people  shall  be  much 
pained;  all  faces  shall  gather  blackness.     7  They  shall ru^i 


Ex.  86.]  SACRED   ELOQUENCE.  353 

like  mighty  men;  they  shall  climb  the  wall  like  men  of 
war ;  and  they  shall  march  every  one  on  his  ways,  and  they 
shall  not  break  their  ranks  :  8  Neither  shall  one  thrust 
another  ;  they  shall  walk  every  one  in  his  path  :  and  when 
they  fall  upon  the  sword,  they  shall  not  be  wounded. 
9  They  shall  run  to  and  fro  in  the  city  ;  they  shall  run 
upon  the  wall,  they  shall  climb  up  upon  the  houses  ;  they 
shall  enter  in  at  the  windows  like  a  thief  10  The  earth 
shall  quake  before  them  ;  the  heavens  shall  tremble  :  the 
sun  and  the  moon  shall  be  dark,  and  the  stars  shall  with- 
draw their  shining:  11  And  the  Lord  shall  utter  his  voico 
before  his  army  :  for  his  cainp  is  very  great :  for  he  is  strong 
that  executeth  his  word  :  for  the  day  of  the  Lord  is  great 
and  very  terrible ;  and  who  can  abide  it  ? 

86.         2  Samuel]:  17—27. 

2  Samuel  i. — 17  And  David  lamented  with  this  lamen- 
tation over  Saul,  and  over  Jonathan  his  son  :  18  (Also  he 
bade  them  teach  the  children  of  Judah  the  use  of  the  bow  : 
behold,  it  is  written  in  the  book  of  Jasher.)  19  The  beau- 
ty of  Israel  is  slain  upon  thy  high  places  :  how  are  the 
mighty  fallen  !  20  Tell  it  not  in  Gath,  publish  it  not  in 
the  streets  of  Askelon  ;  lest  the  daughters  of  the  Philistines 
rejoice,  lest  the  daughters  of  the  uncircumcised  triumph. 
21  Ye  mountains  of  Gilboa,  let  there  be  no  dew,  neither 
let  there  be  rain  upon  you,  nor  fields  of  offerings  :  for  there 
the  shield  of  the  mighty  is  vilely  cast  away,  the  shield,  of 
Saul,  as  though  he  had  not  been  anointed  with  oil.  22  From 
the  blood  of  the  slain,  from  the  fat  of  the  mighty,  the  bow 
of  Jonathan  turned  not  back,  and  the  sword  of  Saul  return- 
ed not  empty.  23  Saul  and  Jonathan  were  lovely  and  pleas- 
ant in  their  lives,  and  in  their  death  they  were  not  divided  : 
they  were  swifter  tlian  eaafles,  they  were  stronger  than  lions. 
24  Ye  dauirhters  of  Israel,  weep  over  Saul,  who  clothed 
you  in  scarlet,  with  other  delights ;  who  put  on  ornaments 
of  gold  upon  your  apparel.  25  How  are  the  mighty  fallen 
in  the  midst  of  the  battle!  O  Jonathan,  thou  wast  slain  in 
thy  high  places.  2H  1  am  distressed  for  thee,  my  brother 
Jonathan  ;  very  pleasant  hast  thou  been  unto  me  :  thy  love 
30* 


354  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  87. 

to  me  was  wonderful,  passing  the  love  of  women.     27  How 
are  the  mighty  fallen  and  the  weapons  of  war  perished  ! 


87.         Revelation. 

All  truth  is  from  the  sempiternal  source 

Of  light  divine.     But  Egypt,  Greece,  and  Rome, 

Drew  from  the  stream  below.     More  favoured,  we 

Drink,  when  we  choose  it,  at  the  fountain-head. 
5     To  them  it  flow'd  much  mingled  and  defil'd 

With  hurtful  error,  prejudice,  and  dreams 

Illusive  of  philosophy,  so  calPd, 

But  falsely.     Sages  after  sages  strove 

In  vain  to  filter  off  a  crystal  draught 
10     Pure  from  the  lees,  which  often  more  enhanc'd 

The  thirst  than  slak'd  it,  and  not  seldom  bred 

Intoxication  and  delirium  wild. 

In  vain  they  push'd  inquiry  to  the  birth 

And  spring-time  of  the  world  ;  ask'd.  Whence  is  man  ? 
15     Why  formed  at  all  ?  and  wherefore  as  he  is  ? 

Where  must  he  find  his  Maker  ?  with  what  rites 

Adore  him  1  Will  he  hear,  accept,  and  bless  ? 

Or  does  he  sit  regardless  of  his  works  ? 

Has  man  within  him  an  immortal  seed  ? 
20     Or  does  the  tomb  take  all  ?  If  he  survive 

His  ashes,  where  ?  and  in  what  weal  or  wo  ? 

Knots  worthy  of  solution,  which  alone 

A  Deity  could  solve.     Their  answers,  vague 

And  all  at  random,  fabulous  and  dark, 
25     Left  them  as  dark  themselves.     Their  rules  of  life, 

Defective  and  unsanctioned,  prov'd  too.  weak 

To  bind  the  roving  appetite,  and  lead 

Blind  nature  to  a  God  not  yet  reveal'd. 

Tis  Revelation  satisfies  all  doubts, 
30     Explains  all  mysteries  except  her  own, 

And  so  illuminates  the  path  of  life. 

That  fools  discover  it,  and  stray  no  more. 

Now  tell  me,  dignified  and  sapient  sir. 

My  man  of  morals,  nurtur'd  in  the  shades 
35    Of  Academus — is  this  false  or  true  ? 


I 


Ex.  88.]  iiACRED  ELOQUENCE.  355 

Is  Christ  the  able  teacher,  or  the  schools  ? 
If  Christ,  then  why  resort  at  ev'ry  turn 
To  Athens  or  to  Rome,  for  wisdom  short 
Of  man's  occasions,  when  in  him  reside 

40     Grace,  knowledge,  comfort — an  unfathom'd  store  ? 
How  oft,  when  Paul  has  serv'd  us  with  a  text, 
Has  Epictetus,  Plato,  Tully  preach'd  ? 
Men,  that,  if  now  alive,  would  sit  content 
And  humble  learners  of  a  Saviour's  worth, 

45     Preach  it  who  might.     Such  was  their  love  of  truth, 
Their  thirst  of  knowledge,  and  their  candour  too  ! 

Cowper, 
88.         Daniel  9:  3—19. 

Dan.  ix. — 3  And  I  set  my  face  unto  the  Lord  God,  to 
seek  by  prayer  and  supplications,  with  fasting,  and  sack- 
cloth, and  ashes  :  4  And  I  prayed  unto  the  Lord  my  God, 
and  made  my  confession,  and  said,  O  Lord,  the  great  and 
dreadful  God,  keeping  the  covenant  and  mercy  to  them  that 
love  him,  and  to  them  that  keep  his  commandments  ;  5 
We  have  sinned,  and  have  committed  iniquity,  and  have 
done  wickedly,  and  have  rebelled,  even  by  departing  from 
thy  precepts  and  from  thy  judgments  :  6  Neither  have  we 
hearkened  unto  thy  servants  the  prophets,  which  spake  in 
thy  name  to  our  kings,  our  princes,  and  our  fathers,  and 
to  all  the  people  of  the  land.  7  O  Lord,  righteousness  be- 
longeth  unto  thee,  but  unto  us  confusion  of  faces,  as  at 
this  day  :  to  the  men  of  Judah,  and  to  the  inhabitants  of 
Jerusalem,  and  unto  all  Israel,  that  are  near,  and  that 
are  afar  off,  through  all  the  countries  whither  thou  hast 
driven  them,  because  of  their  trespass  that  they  have 
trespassed  against  thee.  8  O  Lord,  to  us  belongeth  con- 
fusion of  face,  to  our  kings,  to  our  princes,  and  to  our 
fathers,  because  we  have  siimed  against  thee.  9  To  the 
Lord  our  God  belong  mercies  and  forgiveness,  thouj^h  we 
have  rebelled  against  him;  10  Neither  have  we  obeyed 
the  voice  of  the  Lord  our  God,  to  walk  in  his  laws,  which 
he  set  before  us  by  his  servants  the  prophets.  11  Yea.  all 
Israel  have  transgressed  thy  law,  even  by  departing,  that 
they  might  not  obey  thy  voice  ;  therefore  the  curse  is  pour- 


856  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  89. 

ed  upon  us,  and  the  oath  that  is  written  in  the  law  of  Moses 
the  servant  of  God,  because  we  have  sinned  against  liini. 
12  And  he  hath  confirmed  his  words,  which  he  spake  against 
us,  and  against  our  judges  that  judged  us,  by  bringing  uj>on 
us  a  great  evil :  for  under  the  whole  heaven  hath  not  been 
done  as  hath  been  done  uf>on  Jerusalem.  13  As  it  is  written 
in  the  law  of  Moses,  ail  this  evil  is  come  upon  us  :  yet  made 
we  not  our  prayer  before  the  Lord  our  God,  that  we  might 
turn  from  our  iniquities,  and  understand  thy  truth.  1 4  There- 
fore hath  the  Lord  watched  upon  the  evil,  and  brought  it 
upon  us  :  for  the  Lord  our  God  is  righteous  in  all  his  works 
which  he  doeth  :  for  we  obeyed  not  his  voice.  15  And  now, 
O  Lord,  our  God,  that  hast  brought  thy  people  forth  out  of 
the  land  of  Egypt  with  a  mighty  hand,  and  hast  gotten  thee 
renown,  as  at  this  day  ;  we  have  sinned,  we  have  done  wick- 
edly. 

16  O  Lord,  according  to  all  thy  righteousness,  I  beseech 
thee,  let  thine  anger  and  thy  fury  be  turned  away  from  thy 
city  Jerusalem,  thy  holy  mountain  :  because  for  our  sins 
and  for  the  iniquities  of  our  fathers,  Jerusalem  and  thy  peo- 
ple are  become  a  reproach  to  all  that  are  about  us.  17  Now 
therefore,  O  our  God,  hear  the  prayer  of  thy  servant,  and 
his  supplications,  and  cause  thy  face  to  shine  upon  thy  sanc- 
tuary that  is  desolate,  for  the  Lord's  sake.  18  O  my  God, 
incline  thine  ear,  and  hear  ;  open  thine  eyes,  and  behold 
our  desolations,  and  the  city  which  is  called  by  thy  name  : 
for  we  do  not  present  our  supplications  before  thee  for  our 
righteousness,  but  for  thy  great  mercies.  19  O  Lord,  hear  : 
O  Tx)rd,  fortjive  ;  O  Lord,  hearken  and  do;  defer  not,  for 
thine  own  sake,  O  my  God  :  for  thy  city  and  thy  people  are 
called  by  thy  name. 

89.         Success  of  the  Gospel 

The  assumption  that  our  cause  is  declining  is  utterly 
gratuitous.  We  think  it  not  difficult  to  prove  that  the 
distinctive  principles  we  so  much  venerate,  n»*ver  sway- 
ed so  powerful  an  intluence  over  the  destinies  of  the 
5  human  race,  as  at  this  very  moment.  Point  us  to  those 
nations  of  the  earth  to  whom  moral  and  intellectual  cul- 
tivation, inexhaustible  resources,  progress  in  arts  and 


Ex.  89.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  357 

sagacity  in  counsil,  have  assigned  the  highest  rank  in 
political  importance,  and  you  point  us  to  nations,  whose 

10  religious  opinions  are  most  closely  allied  to  those  we 
cherish.  JBesides,  when  was  there  a  period,  since  the 
days  of  the  Apostles,  in  which  so  many  converts  have 
been  made  to  these  principles  as  have  been  made,  both 
from  christian  and   pagan   nations,    within   the  last  five 

15  and  twenty  years.  Never  did  the  people  of  the  saints 
of  the  Most  High  look  so  much  like  going  forth  in  seri- 
ous earnest,  to  take  possession  of  the  kingdom  and  do- 
minion, and  the  greatness  of  the  kingdom  under  the 
whole  heaven  as  at  this  very  day. 

20  But  suppose  the  cause  did  seem  declining,  we  should 
see  no  reason  to  relax  our  exertions,  for  Jesus  Christ 
has  said,  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature,  and  ap- 
pearances, whether  prosperous  or  adverse,  alter  not  the 
obligation  to  obey  a  positive  command  of  Almighty  God, 

25  Again,  suppose  all  that  is  affirmed  were  true.  If  it 
must  be,  let  it  be.  Let  the  dark  cloud  of  infidelity  over- 
spread Europe,  cross  the  ocean,  and  cover  our  beloved 
land — let  nation  after  nation  swerve  from  the  faith — let 
iniquity  abound,  and   the  love  of  many  wax  cold,  even 

30  until  there  is  on  the  face  of  this  earth,  but  one  pure 
church  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ — all  we 
ask  is,  that  we  may  be  members  of  that  one  church. 
God  grant  that  we  may  throw  ourselves  into  this  Ther- 
mopylae of  the  moral  universe. 

35  But  even  then,  we  should  have  no  fear  that  the  church 
of  God  would  be  exterminated.  We  would  call  to  re- 
membrance the  years  of  the  right  hand  of  the  Most 
High.  We  would  recollect  there  was  once  a  time, 
when  the  whole   church  of  Christ,   not  only   could  be, 

40  but  actually  was  gathered  w  ith  one  accord  in  one  place. 
It  was  then  that  that  place  was  shaken,  as  with  a  rush- 
ing mighty  wind,  and  they  were  all  filled  with  the  Ho- 
ly Ghost.  That  same  day,  three  thousand  were  added 
to  the  Lord.     Soon,  we  hear,  they  have  filled  Jerusalem 

45  with  their  doctrine. — The  church  has  commenced  her 
march — Samaria  has  with  one  accord  believed  the  gos- 
pel— 'Antioch  has  become  obedient  to  the  faith — the 
name  of  Christ  has  been  proclaimed  throughout  Asia 


358  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  90. 

M iuor — the  temples  of  the  gods,   as  though  smitten  by 

50  an  invisible  hand,  are  deserted — the  citizens  of  Ephesus 

cry  out  in  despair,  Great   is   Diana  of  the  Ephesiaiis — 

licentious  Corinth  is  purified  by  the  preaching  of  C'hrist 

crucified.     Persecution  puts  forth  her  arm  to  arrest  the 

spreading  superstition,  but  the  pro^rress  of  the  faith  can- 

55  not  be   stayed.     The  church  of  (ilod  advances  unhurt 

amidst  rocks  and   dungeons,  persecutions   and  death — 

she  has  entered  Italy,  and  appears   before   the   walls  of 

the  Eternal  City — idolatry  falls  prostrate  at  her  approach 

— her  ensign  floats  in  triumph  over  the  capitol — she  has 

60  placed  upon  her  brow  the  diadem  of  the  Caesars. 

WaylanJ. 

90.      The  events  of  Promdence  promotive  of  the  end 
of  Missions, 

Little  did  Julius  Caesar  imagine,  when  the  white  cliffs 
of  Britain,  glittering  in  the  sun,  excited  his  ambition  and 
drew  him  across  the  Channel,  for  what  purpose  he  dis- 
embarked his  legions  on  our  coast ;  but  we  know  that  it 
5  was  to  open  a  door  through  which  the  Gospel  might  en- 
ter our- beloved  country.  Little  did  the  spirit  of  com- 
mercial enterprise  imagine,  when  urged  only  by  its 
thirst  for  gold,  it  fixed  its  establishments  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Hoogley  or  on   the  banks  of  the  Ganges,  that  it 

10  was  sent  thither  as  the  forerunner  of  Christian  Mission- 
aries. Little  does  the  genius  of  war  imagine,  when  im- 
pelling its  mad  votaries  to  new  contests,  that  Christiani- 
ty is  followinor  at  a  distance,  in  the  rear  of  victorious 
armies,  to  plant  her  stations  on   the   fields  of  their  cmi- 

15  campment,  to  bear  away  the  best  of  the  spoils,  and  as- 
sume the  dominion  which  other  potentates  have  lost. 
Little  did  Columbus  imagine,  when  with  a  heart  big 
with  mighty  projects,  he  walked  in  silence  on  the  shor<  s 
of  Andalusia,  and  watched  the  star  of  evening  down  the 
,  20  western  sky,  who  it  was  that  dictated  the  purpose  to  (  x- 
plore  the  region  which  she  went  nightly  to  visit  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic.  We,  however,  live  at  a 
time  when  all  these  events  are  clearly  seen  to  conn<  <  t 
themselves  with  the  grand  purpose  of  Jehovah,  *'  to  bring 


[Ex.  91.  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  369 

25  all  men  to  Christ."  And  the  people  of  future  genera- 
tions will  as  clearly  discern  the  same  relation  in  the 
circumstances  of  our  day. 

I  am  about  to  urge  a  crusade  to  the  heathen  world  ; 
far    diflbrent,  however,  from  that  dreadful   superstition, 

30  which  in  the  midnight  of  the  dark  ages,  disturbed  the 
deep  slumbers  of  the  globe,  and  bursting  forth  like  a 
volcano,  precipitated  all  Europe  in  a  state  of  fusion, 
upon  the  lovely  valleys  of  Judea.  Our  object  is  not  to 
recover  the  holy  sepulchre  from  the  possession  of  here- 

35  tics,  but  to  make  known  the  death  of  Him  that  descend- 
ed to  it,  to  wrest  the  keys  of  empire  from  the  king  of 
terrors : — the  wea[)ons  of  our  warfare,  are  not  carnal, 
as  the  sword,  the  spear,  and  the  battle  axe  ;  but  spirit- 
ual as  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  exhibited    in  the  ser- 

40  mqns  of  our  Missionaries  : — the  line  of  our  march  will 
not  be  marked  by  ensanguined  fields,  and  the  reign  of 
desolation,  but  by  the  comforts  of  civilization  and  the 
blessings  of  Christianity.  We  shall  not  be  followed  in 
our  career  by   the  groans  of  dying   warriors,  and  the 

45  shrieks  of  bereaved  widows,  but  by  the  songs  of  redeem* 
ed  sinners,  and  the  shouts  of  enraptured  angels;  our 
laurels  will  be  stained  with  no  blood  but  that  of  the 
Lamb  of  God,  and  drip  with  no  tears,  but  those  of  pen- 
itence and  joy  : — while  our  trophies  will  consist,   not  of 

50  bits  of  the  true  cross,  or  shreds  of  the  Virgin's  robe,  but 
in  the  rejected  idols  of  Pomare,  with  the  regenerated 
souls  of  those  who  once  adored  them.  James. 


91.  The  hafefulness  of  war, 

t 
Apart  altogether  from  the  evil  of  warje^  us  just  take 
a  direct  look  of  it,  and  see  whether  we  can  find  its  char- 
acter engraven  on  the  aspect  it  bears  to  the  eye  of  an 
attentive  observer.  The  stoutest  heart  of  this  assembly 
would  recoil,  were  he  who  owns  it  to  behold  the  de- 
struction of  a  single  individual  by  some  deed  of  violence. 
Were  the  man  who  at  this  moment  stands  before  you  in 
the  full  play  and  energy  of  health,  to  be  in  another  mo- 
ment laid  by  some  deadly  aim  a  lifeless  corpse  at  your 


360  EXERCISES.  [Ex.91. 

10  feet,  there  is  not  one  of  you  who  would  not  prove  how 
strong  are  the  rclentings  of  nature  at  a  spectacle  so  hid- 
eous as  death.  There  are  some  of  you  who  would  be 
haunted  for  whole  days  by  the  image  of  horror  you  had 
witnessed, — who  would  feel  the  weight  of  a  most  opprcs- 

15  sive  sensation  upon  your  heart,  which  nothing  but  time 
could  wear  away, — who  would  be  so  pursued  by  it  as  to 
be  unfit  for  business  or  for  enjoyment, — who  would  think 
of  it  through  the  day,  and  it  would  spread  a  gloomy 
disquietude  over  your  waking  moments, — who  would 

20  dream  of  it  at  night,  and  it  would  turn  that  bed  which 
you  courted  as  a  retreat  from  the  torments  of  an  ever- 
meddling  memory,  into  a  scene  of  restlessness. 

But  generally  the  death  of  violence  is  not  instantane- 
ous, and  there  is  often  a  sad  and  dreary  interval  between 

25  its  final  consummation,  and  the  infliction  of  the  blow 
which  causes  it.  The  winged  messenger  of  destruction 
has  not  found  its  direct  avenue  to  that  spot,  where  the 
principle  of  life  is  situated  ;  and  the  soul,  finding  obsta- 
cles to  its    immediate  egress,  has  to  struggle   for   hours 

30  ere  it  can  make  its  dreary  way  through  the  windinir 
avenues  of  that  tenement,  which  has  been  torn  open  by 
a  brother's  hand.  O!  if  there  be  something  appallini; 
in  the  suddenness  of  death,  think  not  that,  when  grad- 
ual in  its  advances,  you  will  alleviate  the  horrors  of  this 

35  sickening  contemplation  by  viewing  it  in  a  milder  form. 
O!  tell  me,  if  there  be  any  relentings  of  pity  in  your 
bosom,  how  could  you  endure  it,  to  behold  the  agonir^ 
of  the  dying  man, — as  goaded  by  pain  he  grasps  the  cold 
ground  in  convulsive  energy,  or  faint  with  the   loss  of 

40  blood,  his  pulse  ebbs  low,  and  the  gathering  paleness 
spreads  itself  over  his  countenance,  or  wrapping  him- 
self round  in  despair,  he  can  only  mark,  by  a  few  feeble 
quiverings,  that  life  still  lurks  and  lingers  in  his  lacerat- 
ed body,— or  lifting  up  a  faded  eye,  he  casts  on  you  a 

45  look  of  imploring  helplessness,  for  that  succour  which 
no  sympathy  can  yield  him  ? 

It  may  be  painful  to  dwell  on  such  a  representation, 
— but  this  is  the  way  in  which  the  cause  of  humanity  is 
served.     The  eye  of  the  sentimentalist  turns  away  frofn 


{ 


Ex.  92.]  SACRED  ELOi^UENCE.  361 

50  its  sufferiii2:s,and  he  passes  by  on  the  other  side,  lest  he 
hear  that  pleading  voice,  which  is  armed  with  a  tone  of 
remonstrance  so  vigorous  as  to  disturb  him.  He  cannot 
bear  thus  to  pause,  in  imagination,  on  the  distressing 
picture  of  one  individual  ;   but  multiply  it  ten   thousand 

55  times, — say,  how  much  of  all  this  distress  has  been  heap- 
ed together  on  a  single  field, — give  us  the  arithmetic 
of  this  accumulated  wretchedness,  and  lay  it  before  us 
with  all  the  accuracy  of  an  official  computation, — and, 
strange  to  tell,  not  one  sigh  is  lifted  up  among  the  crowd 

60  of  eager  listeners,  as  they  stand  on  tiptoe,  and  catch 
every  syllable  of  utterance  which  is  read  to  them  out  of 
the  registers  of  death.  O  !  say,  what  mystic  spell  is 
that  which  so  blinds  us  to  the  suffering  of  our  brethren, 
— which  deafens  to  our  ear  the  voice   of  bleeding    hu- 

65  manity,  when  it  is  aggravated  by  the  shriek  of  dying 
thousands, — which  makes  the  very  magnitude  of  the 
slauirhter,  throw  a  softeninor  disgruise  over  its  cruelties, 
and  its  horrors, — which  causes  us  to  eye  with  indiffer- 
ence the  field  that  is  crowded  with   the  most   revolting 

70  abominations,  and  arrests  that  sigh,  which  each  individ- 
ual would  singly  have  drawn  from  us,  by  the  report  of 
the  many  who  have  fallen,  and  breathed  their  last  ia 
agony,  along  with  him  ?  Chalmers, 


92.  Tlie  Preservation  of  the  Church. 

The  long  existence  of  the  Christian  church  would  be 
pronounced,  upon  common  principles  of  reasoning,  im- 
possible.    She  finds  in  every  man  a  natural  and  invete- 
rate enemy.     To  encounter   and  overcome  the   unani- 
5  mous  hostility  of  the  world,  she  boasts  no  political  strat- 
agem, no  disciplined   legions,   no  outward   coercion   of 
any  kind.     Yet  her  expectation  is  that  she  live  forever. 
.    To  mock  this  hope,  aud  to  blot  out  her  memorial  from 
under  heaven,  the  most  furious  efforts  of  fanaticism,  the 
10  most   ingenious   arts   of   statesmen,    the   concentrated 
strength  of  empires,  have  been  frequently  and  persever- 
ingly  applied.     The  blood  of  her  sons  and   her  daugh- 
ters has  streamed  like  water;  the  smoke  of  the  scaffold 
31 


362  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  92, 

and  the  stake,  where  they  wore  the  crown  of  martyrdom 

15  in  the  cause  of  Jesus,  has  ascended  in  thick  volumes  to 
the  skies.  The  tribes  of  persecution  have  sported  over 
her  woes,  and  erected  monuments,  as  they  imagined, 
of  her  perpetual  ruin.  But  where  arc  her  tyrants,  and 
where  their  empires?  the  tyrants  have  long  since  gone 

20  to  their  own  place ;  their  names  have  descended  upon 
the  roll  of  infamy  ;  their  empires  have  passed,  like  shad- 
ows over  the  rock — they  have  successively  disappeared, 
and  left  not  a  trace  behind  ! 

But  what   became  of  the   church  ?     She  rose   from 

25  her  ashes  fresh  in  beauty  and  might.  Celestial  glory 
beamed  around  her;  she  dashed  down  the  monumental 
marble  of  her  foes,  and  they  who  hated  her  fled  before 
her.  She  has  celebrated  the  funeral  of  kings  and  king- 
doms that  plotted   her   destruction  ;  and,    with    the  in- 

30  scriptions  of  their  pride,  has  transmitted  to  posterity 
the  records  of  their  shame.  How  shall  this  phenome- 
non be  explained  ?  We  are  at  the  present  moment, 
witnesses  of  the  fact ;  but  who  can  unfold  the  mystery. 
The   book   of  truth   and  life,   has  made  our  wonder  to 

35  cease.  *  The  Lord  her  God  in  the  midst  of  her  is 
MIGHTY.'  His  presence  is  a  fountain  of  health,  and 
his  protection  a  *  wall  of  fire.'  He  has  betrothed  her, 
in  eternal  covenant  to  himself.  Her  living  head,  in 
whom   she  lives,  is   above,   and   his  quickening  spirit 

40  shall  never  depart  from  her.  Armed  with  divine  vir- 
tue, his  gospel,  secret,  silent,  unobserved,  enters  the 
hearts  of  men  and  sets  up  an  everlasting  kingdom.  Ii 
eludes  all  the  vigilance,  and  baflles  all  the  power  of  the 
adversary.     Bars,  and  bolts,  and  dungeons  are   no  ob- 

45  stacle  to  its  approach :  Bonds,  and  tortures,  and  death 
cannot  extinguish  its  influence.  Let  no  man's  heart 
tremble,  then,  because  of  fear.  Let  no  man  despair 
(in  these  days  of  rebuke  and  blasphemy,)  of  the  Chris- 
tian cause.     The  ark   is  launched,   indeed,   upon  the 

50  floods  ;  the  tempest  sweeps  along  the  deep  ;  the  billows 
break  over  her  on  every  side.  But  Jehovah-Jesus  has 
promised  to  conduct  her  in  safety  to  the  haven  of  peaa. 
She  cannot  be  lost  unless  the  pilot  perish.         Mason, 


I 


Ex.  93.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  363 


93.      Obligations  to  the  Pilgrims. 

Let  us  go  back  to  the  rock,  where  tlie  Pilgrims 
first  stood,  and  look  abroad  upon  this  wide  and  liappy 
land,  so  full  of  their  lineal  or  adopted  sons,  and  repeat 
the  question,  to  whom  do  we  owe  it,  that  "  the  wilder- 
5  ness  has  thus  been  turned  into  a  fruitful  field,  and  the 
desert  has  become  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord  ?"  To 
whom  do  we  owe  it,  under  an  all-wise  Providence,  that 
this  nation,  so  miraculously  born,  is  now  contributing 
with  such  effect  to  the  welfare  of  the  human  family,  by 
10  aiding  the  march  of  mental  and  moral  improvement, 
and  oriving  an  example  to  the  nations  of  what  it  is  to  be 
pious,  intelligent,  and  free  I  To  whom  do  we  owe  it, 
that  with  us  the  great  ends  of  the  social  compact  are  ac- 
complished to  a  degree  of  perfection  never  before  real- 
ly ized  ;  that  the  union  of  public  power  and  private  liber- 
ty is  here  exhibited  in  a  harmony  so  singular  and  per- 
fect, as  to  allow  the  might  of  political  combination  to 
rest  upon  the  basis  of  individual  virtue,  and  to  call  into 
exercise,  by  the  very  freedom  which  such  a  union  gives, 
^0  all  the  powers  that  contribute  to  national  prosperity  ? 
To  whom  do  we  owe  it,  that  the  pure  and  powerful 
light  of  the  gospel  is  now  shed  abroad  over  these  coun- 
tries, and  is  rapidly  gaining  upon  the  darkness  of  the 
western  world  ; — that  the  importance  of  religion  to  the 
25  temporal  welfare  of  men,  and  to  the  permanence  of  wise 
institutions  is  here  beginning  to  be  felt  in  its  just  meas- 
ure;— that  the  influence  of  a  divine  revelation  is  not 
here,  as  in  almost  every  other  section  of  Christendom, 
wrested  to  purposes  of  worldly  ambition  ; — that  the  ho- 
30  ly  Bible  is  not  sealed  from  the  eyes  of  those  for  whom  it 
was  intended  ; — and  the  best  charities  and  noblest  pow- 
ers of  the  soul  degraded  by  the  terrors  of  a  dark  and 
artful  superstition  ?  To  whom  do  we  owe  it,  that  in 
this  favoured  land  the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God  has 
35  best  displayed  its  power  to  bless  humanity,  by  uniting 
the  anticipations  of  a  better  world  with  the  highest  in- 
terests and  pursuits  of  this  ; — by  carrying  its  merciful 
influence  into  the  very  business  and  bosoms  of  men ; — 


M4  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  94. 

by  making  the  ignorant  wise  and  the  miserable  happy ; 

40  — by  breaking  the  fetters  of  the  slave,  and  teaching 
"  the  babe  and  the  suckling''  those  simple  and  sublime 
truths,  which  give  to  life  its  dignity  and  virtue,  and  till 
immortality  with  hope  ? — To  whom  do  owe  all  this  I 
Doubtless  to  the  Plymouth  Pilgrims! — Happily  did  one 

45  of  those  fearless  exiles  exclaim,  in  view  of  all  that  was 
past,  and  of  the  blessincr,  and  honour,  and  glory  that 
.was  yet  to  come,  "■  God  hath  sifted  three  kingdoms,  that 
he  might  gather  the  choice  grairv,  and  plant  it  in  the 
wilderness !"  Whelplcy. 


94.         A  Future  State. 

'Tis  done  !  dread  Winter  spreads  his  latest  glooms. 
And  reigns  tremendous  o'er  the  conquer'd  year. 
How  dead  the  vegetable  kingdom  lies ! 
How  dumb  the  tuneful  !   Horror  wide  extends 
5  His  desolate  domain.     Behold,  fond  man ! 

See  here  thy  pictur'd  life  :  pass  some  few  years, 
Thy  flow'ring  Spring,  thy  Summer's  ardent  strength, 
The  sober  Autumn  fading  into  age, 
And  pale  concluding  Winter  comes  at  last, 

10  And  shuts  the  scene.     Ah  !  whither  now  are  fled 
Those  dreams  of  greatness?  those  unsolid  hopes 
Of  happiness  ?  those  longings  after  fame  ? 
Those  restless  cares  ?  those  busy  bustling  days  ? 
Those  gay-spent,  festive  nights  ?  those  veering  thoughts 

15  Lost  between  good  and  ill,  that  shar'd  thy  life? 
All  now  are  vanish'd  !  Virtue  sole  survives, 
Immortal,  never-failing  friend  of  man, 
His  guide  to  happiness  on  high.     And  see  ! 
'Tis  come,  the  glorious  morn  !  the  second  birth 

20  Of  heav'n  and  earth  !  awak'ning  Nature  hears 
The  new-creating  word,  and  starts  to  life, 
In  ev'ry  heighten'd  form,  from  pain  and  death 
For  ever  free.     The  great  eternal  scheme, 
Involving  all,  and  in  a  perfect  whole 

*i5  Uniting  as  the  prospect  wider  spreads, 
To  reason's  eye  refin'd,  clears  up  apace. 


Ex.  95.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  365 

Y^  vainly  wise!  ye  blind  presumptuous!  now, 
Confounded  Ifk  the  dust,  adore  that  Pow'r 
And  Wisdom  oft  arraign'd ;  see  now  the  cause 

30  Why  unassuming  worth  in  secret  liv'd, 

And  died  neglected  :  why  the  good  man's  share 
In  life  was  gall  and  bitterness  of  soul  : 
Why  the  lone  widow  and  her  orphans  pin'd 
In  starving  solitude  ;  while  luxury, 

35  In  palaces,  lay  straining  her  low  thought, 

To  form  unreal  wants;  why  heaven-born  truth, 
And  moderation  fair,  wore  the  red  marks 
Of  superstition's  scourge  :  why  licensM  pain, 
That  cruel  spoiler,  that  embosom'd  foe, 

40  Imbitter'd  all  our  bliss.     Ye  good  distress'd  ! 
Ye  noble  few  !   who  here  unbending  stand 
Beneath  life's  pressure,  yet  bear  up  a  while, 
And  what  your  bounded  view,  which  only  saw 
A  little  part,  deem'd  evil,  is  no  more; 

45  The  storms  of  Wintry  Time  will  quickly  pass. 

And  one  unbounded  Spring  encircle  all.  Thomson, 

95.  Present  facilities  for  evangelizing  the  world  compared 
with  those  of  Primitive  times. 

The  means  of  extending  knowledge,  and  influencing 
the  human  mind  by  argument  and  moral  power,  are 
multiplied  a  thousand  fold.  The  Lancasterian  mode  of 
instruction  renders  the  instruction  of  the  world  cheap 
5  and  easy.  The  improvements  of  the  press  have  re- 
duced immensely,  and  will  reduce  yet  more,  the  price 
of  books,  bringing  not  only  Tracts  and  Bibles,  but  even 
libraries  within  the  reach  of  every  man  and  every  child. 
But  in  the  primitive  age,   the   lii^ht  of  science    beamed 

10  only  on  a  small  portion  of -mankind.  The  mass  of  man- 
kind were  not,  and  coiild  not  be,  instructed  to  read. 
Every  thing  was  transient  and  fluctuating,  because  so 
little  was  made  permanijut  in  books,  and  general  knowl- 
edge, and  so  much  depended  on  the  character,  the   life 

15  and  energy  of  the  livinj  teacher.  The  press,  that  lev- 
er of  Archimedes,  which  now  moves  the  world,  was  un- 
known. 

31* 


366  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  95. 

It  was  the  extinction  of  science  by  the  invasion  of 
the  northern  barbarians,  which  threw  back  the  world  ten 

20  centuries  ;  and  this  it  effected  through  the  want  of  per- 
manent instruction,  and  the  omnipotent  control  of  opin- 
ion which  is  exerted  by  the  press.  Could  Paul  have 
put  in  requisition  the  press,  as  it  is  now  put  in  requisition 
by  Christianity,  and  have  availed  himself  of  literary  so- 

25  cieties,  and  Bible  societies,  and  Lancasterian  schools 
to  teach  the  entire  population  to  read,  and  of  Bibles, 
and  Libraries  and  Tracts,  Mahomet  had  never  opened 
the  bottomless  pit,  and  the  Pope  had  never  set  his  foot 
upon  the  neck  of  kings,  nor  deluged  Europe   with  the 

30  blood  of  the  saints. 

Should  any  be  still  disposed  to  insist,  that  our  advan- 
tages for  evangelizing  the  world,  are  not  to  be  compar- 
ed with  those  of  the  apostolic  age,  let  them  reverse  the 
scene,  and  roll  back  the  wheels  of  time,  and  obliterate 

35  the  improvements  in  science  and  commerce  and  arts, 
which  now  facilitate  the  spread  of  the  Gospel.  Let  theui 
throw  into  darkness  all  the  known  portionsof  the  earth, 
which  were  then  unknown.  Let  them  throw  into  dis- 
tance the  propinquity  of  nations:  and   exchange  their 

40  rapid  intercourse  for  cheerless,  insulated  existence. 
Let  the  magnetic  power  be  forgotten,  and  the  timid 
navigator  creep  along  the  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean, 
and  tremble  and  clinof  to  the  shore  when  he  looks 
out    upon    the    loud    waves  of  the    Atlantic.     Inspire 

45  idolatry  with  the  vigor  of  meridian   manhood,  and   arm 
in  its  defence,  and  against  Christianity,  all  the  civiliza- 
tion, and  science,  and  mental  power  of  the  world.     Giv( 
back  to  the  implacable  Jew  his  inveterate  unbelief,  and 
his  vantage  ground,  and  disposition  lo  oppose  Christian- 

50  ity  in  every  place  of  his  di8j)ersion,  from  Jerusalem  to 
every  extremity  of  the  Roman  Empire.  Blot  out  tin; 
means  of  extending  knowledge  and  exerting  influenre 
upon  the  human  mind.  Destroy  the  Lancasterian  sy  - 
tem  of  instruction,  and  throw  back  the  mass  of  men  into 

55  a  state  of  unreading,  unreflecting  ignorance.  Blot  out 
libraries,  and  Tracts;  abolish  Bible  and  Education  and 
Tract  and  Missionary  Societies;  and  send  the  nations 
for  knowledge  parchment,  and  the  slow  and  limited  pro- 


Ex.  9G.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.        \.^^  ^  *.^Z  ^f\  ^ 

><ji^ii<^ORs^^" 

ductions  of  the  pen.     Let  all  the  improvements  m  civil 

GO  government  be  obliterated,  and  the  world  be  driven  from 
the  happy  arts  ofself  government  to  the  guardianship  of 
dungeons  and  chains.  Let  liberty  of  conscience  ex- 
pire, and  the  church,  now  emancipated,  and  walking 
forth  in  her  unsullied  loveliness,  return  to  the  guidance 

65  of  secular  policy,  and  the  perversions  and  corruptions 
of  an  unholy  priesthood.  And  now  reduce  the  200, 
000,000  of  nominal,  and  the  10,000,000  of  real  Chris- 
tians,  spread  over  the  earth,  to  500  disciples,  and  to 
twelve  apostles,  assembled,  for   fear  of  the   Jews,  in  an 

70  upper  chamber  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  a  secret  prayer 
meeting.  And  give  them  the  power  of  miracles,  and 
the  gift  of  tongues,  and  send  them  out  into  all  the  earth, 
to  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature. 

is  this  the  apostolic  advantage  for  propagating  Chris- 

75  tianity,  which  throws  into  discouragement  and  hopeless 
imbecility  all  our  present  means  of  enlightening  and 
disenthralling  the  world  ?  They,  comparatively,  had 
nothing  to  begin  with,  and  every  thing  to  oppose  them ; 
and  yet,  in  three  hundred  years,  the  whole  civilized,  and 

80  much  of  the  barbarous,  world,  was  brouofht  under  the 
dominion  of  Christianity.  And  shall  we  with  the  ad- 
vantage of  all  their  labors,  and  of  our  numbers,  and  a 
thousand  fold  increase  of  opportunity,  and  moral  power, 
stand  halting  in  unbelief,  while  the  Lord  Jesus,   is  still 

85  repeating  the  injunction,  Go  ye  out  into  all  the  world, 
and  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature :  and  repeat- 
ing the  assurance,  Lo  1  am  with  you  alway,  even  to  the 
end  of  the  world  ?  Shame  on  our  sloth  !  Shame  upon 
our  unbelief!  Beecher, 

96.  Civilization  merely  ineffectual  to  convert  the  world. 

Suppose  that,  out  of  compliment  to  the  mockers  of 
Missionary  zeal,  we  relinquished  its  highest,  and  indeed 
its  identifying  object :  suppose  we  conhned  our  efforts 
exclusively  to  civilization,  and  consented  to  send  the 
5  plough  and  the  loom  instead  of  the  cross  :  and  admitting 
that  upon  this  reduced  scale  of  operation,  we  were  as 
successful  as  could  be  desired,  till  we  had  even  raised 


368  KXERCicEs.  [Ex.  96, 


the  man  of  the  woods  into  the  man  of  the  city,  and  ele- 
vated the  savage  into  the  sage,  what,  I  ask,  have  we  cP* 

10  fected,  viewing  man,  as  we  with  the  New  Testament  in 
our  hands  must  view  him,  in  the  whole  range  of  his  ex- 
istence ?  We  haie  poured  the  lijyjht  of  science  on  his 
path,  and  strewed  it  with  the  flowers  of  literature,  but  if 
we  leave  him  to  the  dominion  of  his  vices,  it  is  still  the 

15  piith  to  perdition.  We  have  taught  him  to  fare  sumptu- 
ously every  day  ;  but  alas !  this,  in  his  case,  is  only  like 
offering  viands  to  the  wretch  who  is  on  his  way  to  the 
place  of  execution.  We  have  stripped  off  his  sheep-skin 
kaross,  and  clothed  him  with  purple  and  fine  linen,  but 

20  it  is  only  to  aid  him,  like  Dives,  to  move  in  state  to  the 
torments  of  the  damned.  We  may  raise  the  sculptured 
monument  upon  his  bones,  in  place  of  the  earthly  hil- 
lock in  the  wilderness,  but  while  his  ashes  repose  in  gran- 
deur, the   worm  that  never  dies  devours   his  soul,  and 

25  the  flame  that  can  never  be  extinguished  consumes  his 
peace.  We  confer  a  boon,  which  is  valuable,  it  is  true, 
while  it  lasts,  but  it  is  a  boon  which  the  soul  drops  as 
she  steps  across  the  confines  of  the  unseen  world,  and 
then  p^isses  on  to  wander  through  eternity,  **  wretched, 

30  and  miserable,  and  poor,  and  blind,  and  naked."  But 
let  us  aim  first  to  save  the  soul,  by  bringing  it  under  the 
influence  of  Christianity,  and  then  as  we  advance  to  the 
ultimate  end  of  our  exertions,  we  shall  not  fail  to  scatter 
ahmg  the  path  of  our  benevolence  all  the  seeds  of  civili- 

35  zation  and  social  order. 

What  is  it  which,  at  this  moment,'  is  kindling  the  in- 
tellect, softening  the  manners,  sanctifying  the  hearts,  and 
purifying  the  lives  of  the  numerous  tribes  of  the  degrad- 
ed sons  of  Ham  ?  It   is   the  faithful  saying,  that  Christ 

40  Jesus  camo.  into  the  world  to  save  sinners."  It  is  this, 
poured  in  artless  strains  from  the  lips  of  our  Missiona- 
ries, and  set  home  upon  the  soul,  by  the  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  which  is  more  than  realizing  tlie  fable  of 
Anr.phion's  lyre,   and    raising  up  the  stones  of  African 

45  deserts,  into  the  walls  of  the  church  of  God. 

O,  had  the  cannibal  inhabitants  of  Talieite  been  per- 
suaded to  renounce  their  wretched  superstition  and  cru- 


Ex.  97.]  SACRED   ELOC^UENCE.  369 

el  customs,  by  any  efforts  of  a  purely   rational   nature  ; 

oO  had  the  apostles  of  philosophy  been  the  instruments  of 
their  conversion,  and  had  the  gods  of  Pomare  been  sent 
home  by  them,  to  be  deposited  in  the  Museum,  instead 
of  the  Missionary  Rooms,  how  would  the  world  have 
rung    with  the   praises  of  all-sufficient  Reason.     New 

55  temples  would  have  been  raised  to  this  modern  Mi- 
nerva, while  all  the  tribes  of  the  Tlluminati  would  have 
been  seen  moving  in  triumphal  procession  to  her 
shrine,  chanting  as  they  went  the  honours  of  their  il- 
lustrious goddess.     But  thine,  thou  crucified    Redeem- 

(dO  er  ;  thine  is  the  power,   and  thine  shall  be  the   glory  of 

this  conquest.     Those  isles  of  the  Southern  Sea  shall 

be  layed  at  thy  feet,  as  the   trophies  of  thy  cross,  and 

shall  be  added  as  fresh  jewels  to  thy  mediatorial  crown. 

And,  indeed,    not  to  quit  our  own   age,  or  our  own 

65  land,  do  we  not  see  all  around  us  the  attractions  of  the 
cross  ?  What  is  it  that  guides  and  governs  the  tide  of 
religious  popularity,  whether  it  rolls  in  the  channels  of 
the  Establishment,  or  those  of  Dissent  ?  Is  it  not  this, 
which  causes  the  mighty  influx  of  tlie  spring  tide  in  one 

70  place  ;  and  is  it  not  the  absence  of  it,  which  occasions 
the  dull  retiring  ebb  in  another?  Yes !  and  raise  me 
but  a  barn,  in  the  very  shadow  of  St.  PauPs  Cathedral, 
and  give  me  a  man  who  shall  preach  ^Christ  crucified, 
with  something  of  the   energy   which  the  all-inspiring 

75  theme  is  calculated  to  awaken  ;  and  in  spite  of  the 
meanness  of  the  one,  and  the  magnificence  of  the  other, 
you  shall  see  the  former  crowded  with  warm  hearts, 
while  the  matins  and  vespers  of  the  latter,  if  the  Gospel 
be  not  preached  there,  shall   be  chanted   to  the  statues 

80  of  the  mighty  dead.  James. 


97.  The  forebodings  of  a  heathen  approaching  death. 

With  what  feelings  must  an   intelligent   heathen   ap- 
proach his  final  catastrophe !  He  has  seen  his  ancestors 
go  down  to  the  dust,  and  often,  when   standing  upon 
their  graves,    has    felt   a  distressing   solicitude,   which 
5  nothing  could  relieve,  to  know  something  of  that  state 


370  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  98. 

of  being  into  which  they  had  passed  when  they  vanish- 
ed from  the  earth.  At  len'^th  his  own  turn  is  arrived, 
and  he  too  must  die.  Whither  is  he  going?  What  is 
to  become  of  him  ?     If  there   be  a  God,   how  shall  he 

10  meet  him?  If  there  be  a  future  state,  how  and  where 
is  he  to  spend  it  ?  Not  a  whisper  of  consolation  is 
heard  from  the  tomb,  nor  a  ray  of  satisfactory  light  is 
thrown  upon  its  darkness  by  the  instructions  of  the  liv- 
ing.    Oh  !   with  what  horror  does  he  turn  his  half  avert- 

15  ed  eye  upon  that  sepulchre,  in  which  he  must  shortly 
be  interred  ;  and  with  what  dreadful  efforts  does  he  en- 
deavour to  force  his  reluctant  spirit  upon  her  destiny, 
starting  every  moment  at  the  spectres  which  rise  in  her 
own  perturbed  imagination.     Oh  !  how  much  would  he 

20  give  for  some  one  to  tell  him  what  there  is  beyond  the 
grave,  and  what  he  must  do  to  get  rid  of  his  guilt,  so  as 
to  be  admitted  to  the  world  of  the  blessed.  Just  at  this 
time,  one  of  our  Missionaries  reaches  his  abode,  and 
declares  to  him  that  Christ  by  his  death,   has  brought 

25  life  and  immortality  to  light.  This  is  music  indeed  : 
he  never  heard  such  news  before.  The  Spirit  of  God 
gives  effect  to  the  word.  He  is  drawn  to  Jesus,  clasp- 
ing to  his  bosom  that  doctrine,  which  gives  him  life  in 
death,  and  hope   in   despair.     And   he  who  but  a  few 

30  weeks  before  was  stumbling  upon  the  dark  mountains 
of  idolatry,  just  ready  to  be  precipitated  into  eternal 
night,  quits  the  scene  of  his  earthly  existence  with  the 
language  of  Simeon  upon  his  lips,  '*  Lord,  now  lettest 
thou  thy   servant  depart  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes  have; 

35  seen  thy  salvation,  which  thou  hast  prepared  before  the 
face  of  all  people,  a  light  to  enlighten  the  Gentiles." 

James* 

98.  The  efficacy  of  the  cross. 

Wherever  the  Apostles  went,  the  doctrine  of  the  cross 
was  the  theme  of  their  public  discourses,  and  the  topir 
,of  their  mofe  private  instruction.  Whether  standinL^ 
amidst  the  elegancies  of  Corinth,  the  classic  beauties  ot" 
5  Athens,  the  overwhelming  grandeur  of  Rome,  or  thf- 
hallowed  scenes  of  Jerusalem,  they  presented  this  to  all 
men  alike.     They  did  not  conceal  the  ignominy  of  th< 


Ex.98.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  371 

accursed  tree  behind  the  sublime  morality  of  the  Gos- 
pel, and  permit  the  unsightly  object  to  steal  out  only  in- 

10  sidiously  and  by  degrees;  but  exhibited  it  naked,  and 
at  once,  as  the  very  foundation  of  that  religion  which 
they  were  commissioned  and  inspired  to  promulgate. 
When  the  JSw  on  one  hand  was  demanding  a  sign,  and 
the  Greek  on  the  other  was  asking  for  wisdom,  they  re- 

15  plied  to  both,  **  we  preach  Christ  crucified.  **  They 
never  courted  the  philosopher  by  a  parade  of  science, 
the  orator  by  a  blaze  of  eloquence,  or  the  curious  by  the 
aid  of  novelty.  They  tried  no  experiments,  made  no 
digressions.     Feeling  the  power  of  this  sublime  truth  in 

20  their  own  souls ;  enamoured  by  the  thousand  thousand 
charms  with  which  they  saw  it  attended  ;  emboldened 
by  the  victories  which  followed  its  career  ;  and  acting 
in  obedience  to  that  divine  authority,  which  regulated 
all  their  conduct,  they  kindled  into  raptures  amidst  the 

25  scorn  and  rage  of  an  ungodly  world,  and  in  the  fervor 
of  their  zeal,  threw  off  an  impassioned  sentiment,  which 
has  been  returned  in  distinct  echo  from  every  Christian 
land,  and  been  adopted  as  the  watch-word  of  an  evan- 
gelical ministry,  *'  God    forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save 

30  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

Wonderful  was  the  effect  of  their  labour.  A  revolu- 
tion more  extraordinary  than  history  records,  or  imagin- 
ation could  have  conceived,  was  every  where  effected, 
and  this  by   what  was  derided   by  the    men    who  gave 

35  laws  to  the  opinions  of  the  world,  as  **  the  foolishness  of 
preaching."  The  powers  of  Paganism  beheld  the  wor- 
shippers of  the  gods  drawn  away  from  their  shrines,  by 
an  influence  which  they  could  neither  understand  nor 
resist.     Not  the  authority  of  the  Olympian  Jove,  nor  the 

40  seductive  rites  of  the  Paphian  Goddess,  could  any  lon- 
ger retain  the  homage  of  their  former  votaries.  The 
exquisite  beauty  of  their  temples  and  their  statues,  with 
all  those  fascinations  which  their  mythology  was  calcu- 
lated to  exert  upon  a  people  of  refined  taste  and  vicious 

45  habits,  became  the  objects  not  only  of  indifference,  but 
abhorrence  ,  and  millions  by  whom  the  cross  must  have 
been  contemplated  with  mental  revulsion  as  a  matter  of 


372  EXfiECiSEs.  [Ex.  08. 

taste,  embraced  it   with  ecstacy  as  the  means  of  salva- 
tion.    The   iiloiairous  rites  were   deserted,   the   altars 

50  overturned,  the  deities  left  to  themselves  to  sympathise 
with  each  other  in  dumb  consternation,  the  lying  voice 
of  the  oracles  was  hushed,  the  deceptive  light  of  philos- 
ophy was  extinguished,  Satan  fell  like  lightning  from 
heaven,  while  the  ministers  of  light   rose  with  the  num- 

55  ber,  the  order,  and  the  brilliancy  of  the  stars.  Resis- 
tance only  promoted  the  cause  it  intended  to  oppose, 
and  persecution,  like  the  wind  of  heaven  blowing  upon 
^  conflagration,  served  only  to  spread  the  flame.  In 
vain  *^  did   the   kings  of  the  earth   set  themselves,  and 

60  the  rulers  take  counsel  together  against  the  Lord." 
The  Imperial  eagle  collecting  all  her  strength,  and  rous- 
ing all  her  fury,  attacked  the  Lamb  of  God,  till  she  too, 
subdued  and  captivated  by  the  cross,  cowered  beneath 
its  emblem,  as  it  floated  from  the  towers  of  the  capitol, 

65  and  Christianity  with  the  purple  waving  from  her  shoul- 
ders, and  the  diadem  sparkling  upon  her  brows,  was 
proclaimed  to  be  the  Truth  of  God,  and  the  Empress  of 
the  world,  on  that  very  throne  of  the  Caesars  where  she 
had  been  so  often  arraigned  as  a  criminal,  and  condemn- 

70  ed  as   an  impostor. 

What  was  it,  I  ask,  which,  by  the  instrumentality  ot 
Luther,  and  Melancthon,  and  Calvin,  and  Zuingle,  dis- 
solved the  power  of  the  Beast  on  the  continent  of  Eu- 
rope, and  drew  away    a   third   part  of  his   worshippers, 

75  within  the  pale  of  a  more  scriptural  communion  ?  It 
was  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith  in  the  blood  ot 
Christ. 

David  Brainerd,  the  apostle  of  the  American  Indians, 
has  left  upon  record  an  essay  to  inform   the  world,  thai 

80  it  Wfis  by  preaching  Christ  crucified,  he  was  enabled  to 
raise  a  Christian  church,  in  those  desolate  wilds  where 
he  laboured,  and  among  a  barbarous  people  devoted  to 
witchcraft,  drunkenness,  and   idolatry. 

The  Moravian  Missionaries,  those  holy,  patient,  unos- 

85  tentatious  servants  of  our  Lord,  have  employed  with  pe- 
culiar effect  these  heaven  appointed  means,  in  convert- 
ing and  civilizing  the  once  pilfering  and  murderous  Es- 
quimaux.    With  these,  have  they  also  *'  dared  the  ter- 


Ex.  99,  100.]     SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  373 

rorsofan  Arctic  sky,  and  directing  their  adventurous 
90  course  through  the  floating  fields  and  frost  reared  pre- 
cipices that  guard  the  secrets  of  the  Pole,"  have  caused 
the  banner  of  the  cross  to  wave  over  the  throne  of  ever- 
lasting winter,  and  warmed  the  cold  bosom  of  the  shiv- 
eriuir  Greenlander  with  the  love  of  Christ.  James, 

99.  The  Fall  of  Niagara. 

The  thoughts  are  strange  that  crowd  into  my  brain, 
While  I  look  upward  to  thee.     It  would  seem 
As  if  God  pour'd  thee  from  his  '  hollow  hand/ 
And  hung  his  bow  upon  thy  awful  front ; 
5     And  spoke  in  that  loud  voice,  which  seemed  to  him 
Who  dwelt  in  Patmos  for  his  Saviour's  sake, 
'  The  sound  of  many  waters  ;'  and  had  bade 
Thy  flood  to  chronicle  the  ages  back, 
And  notch  His  cent'ries  in  the  eternal  rocks. 

10         Deep  calleth  unto  deep.     And  what  are  we, 
That  hear  the  question  of  that  voice  sublime  ? 
Oh  !  what  are  all  the  notes  that  ever  rung 
From  war's  vain  trumpet,  by  thy  thundering  side ! 
Yea,  what  is  all  the  riot  man  can  make 

15     In  his  short  life,  to  thy  unceasing  roar  ! 

And  yet,  bold  blabbler,  what  art  thou  to  Him, 
Who  drown'd  a  world,  and  heap'd  the  waters  far 
Above  its  loftiest  mountains? — a  light  wave, 
That  breaks,  and  whispers  of  its  Maker's  might. 

JBrainard, 

100.         Reform  in  Morals, 

The  crisis  has  come.  By  the  people  of  this  genera- 
tion, by  ourselves  probably,  the  amazing  question  is  to 
be  decided,  whether  the  inheritance  of  our  fathers  shall 
be  preserved  or  thrown  away  ;  whether  our  Sabbaths 
5  shall  be  a  delight  or  a  loathing ;  whether  the  taverns, 
on  that  holy  day,  shall  be  crowded  with  drunkards, 
or  the  sanctuary  of  God,  with  humble  worshippers ; 
whether  riot  and  profaneness  shall  fill  our  streets,  and 
poverty  our  dwellings,  and  convicts  our  jails,  and  vio 
32 


374  FXKRcisEs.  [Ex.  100. 

10  lence  our  land,  or  whether  industry,  and  temperance, 
and  righteoui>ness,  shall  be  the  stability  of  our  times  ; 
whether  mild  laws  shall  receive  the  cheerful  sub- 
mission of  freemen,  or  the  iron  rod  of  a  tyrant  com- 
pel the   trembling   homage  of  slaves.     Be    not  deceiv- 

15  ed.  Human  nature  in  this  state  is  like  human  nature 
every  where.  All  actual  difference  in  our  favor  is  ad- 
ventitious, and  the  result  of  our  laws,  institutions  and 
habits.  It  is  a  moral  influence,  which,  with  the  bless- 
ing of  God,  has  formed  a  state  of  society  so  eminently 

20  desirable.  The  same  influence,  which  has  formed  it,  is 
indispensable  to  its  preservation.  The  rocks  and  hills 
of  New-England  will  remain  till  the  last  conflagration. 
But  let  the  Sabbath  be  profaned  with  impunity,  the 
worship  of  God  be  abandoned,   the  government  and  re- 

25  ligious  instruction  of  children  neglected,  and  the  streams 
of  intemperance  be  permitted  to  flow,  and  her  glory 
will  depart.  The  wall  of  fire  will  no  more  surround 
her,  and  the  munition  of  rocks  will  no  longer  be  her 
defence. 

30  If  we  neglect  our  duty,  and  suffer  our  laws  and  insti- 
tutions to  go  down,  we  give  them  up  forever.  It  is  easy 
to  relax,  easy  to  retreat,  but  impossible,  when  the  abom- 
ination of  desolation  has  once  passed  over  New  Eng- 
land, to  rear  again  the  thrown  down   altars,  and  gather 

35  again  the  fragments,  and  build  up  the  ruins  of  demol- 
ished institutions.  Another  New-England,  nor  we,  nor 
our  children  shall  ever  see,  if  this  be  destroyed.  All  is 
lost  irretrievably,  when  the  land  marks  are  once  remov- 
ed, and  the  bands  which  now  hold  us  are  once  broken. 

40  Such  institutions,  and  such  a  state  of  society,  can  be  es- 
tablished only  by  such  men  as  our  fathers  were,  and  in 
such  circumstances  as  they  were  in.  They  could  not 
have  made  a  New-England  in  Holland.  They  made  the 
attempt,  but  failed. 

45  The  hand  that  overturns  our  laws  and  altars,  is  the 
hand  of  death  unbarring  the  gate  of  Pandemonium,  and 
letting  loose  upon  our  land  the  crimes  and  the  miseries 
of  hell.  If  the  Most  High  should  stand  aloof,  and  cast, 
not  a  single   ingredient   into  our   cup  of  trembling,  it 

50  would  seem  to  be  full  of  superlative  woe.     But  he  will 


Ex.   101.]  SACRED   ELOQUENCE.  375 

not  stand  aloof.  As  we  shall  have  begun  an  open  con- 
troversy with  him,  he  will  contend  openly  with  us.  And 
never,  since  the  earth  stood,  has  it  been  so  fearful  a 
thini^  for  nations  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God. 

55  The  day  of  vengeance  is  in  his  heart,  the  day  of  judgment 
has  come;  the  great  earthquake  which  sinks  Babylon 
is  shaking  the  nations,  and  the  waves  of  the  mighty  com- 
motion are  dashing  upon  every  shore.  Is  this  then  a 
time  to  remove   foundations,   when   the  earth   itself  is 

60  shaken  ?  Is  this  a  time  to  forfeit  the  protection  of  God, 
when  the  hearts  of  men  are  failing  them  for  fear,  and 
for  looking  after  those  things  which  are  coming  on  the 
earth  ?  Is  this  a  time  to  run  upon  his  neck  and  the 
thick  bosses  of  his    buckler,  when  the  nations  are  drink- 

65  ing  blood,  and  famting,  and  passing  away  in  his  wrath  1 
Is  this  a  time  to  throw  away  the  shield  of  faith  when  his 
arrows  are  drunk  with  the  blood  of  the  slain  ?  To  cut 
from  the  anchor  of  hope,  when  the  clouds  are  collecting 
and  the  sea  and   the   waves  are  roaring,  and  thunders 

70  are  uttering  their  voices,  and  lightnings  blazing  in  the 
heavens,  and  the  great  hail  is  falling  from  heaven  upon 
men,  and  every  mountain,  sea  and  island  is  fleeing  in 
dismay  from  the  face  of  an  incensed  God  ?         Beecher. 

101.  Universal  spread  of  the  Bible. 

It  has  been  well  said  by  a  great  politician  of  another 
country,  by  Edmund  Burke,  that  "  religion  is  the  basis 
of  civil  society" — and  especially,  he  might  have  added, 
of  a  free  state.  And  it  has  been  said  by  a  greater  than 
5  he,  by  our  own  Washington,  that  **  of  all  the  dispositions 
and  habits  which  lead  to  political  prosperity,  Reliorion 
and  Morality  are  indispensable  supports."  And  with- 
out pursuing  the  idea  t]irough  all  its  illustrations,  (for 
which  I  have  not  time)  what,  I  would  ask,  without  their 

10  genial  influences,  what  is  to  moderate  and  chasten  that 
pride  of  self-irovernment,  that  lust  of  power,  which  is 
generated,  and  inflamed  by  all  our  institutions  ?  What 
is  to  prevent  our  liberty,  great  as  it  is,  from  lapsing  in- 
to licentiousness  ?  we  hold,  you  know,  (and  rightly  too,) 

15  that  all  government  is,  or  ought  to  be,  made  and  manag- 


376  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  101. 

ed  for  ihe  benefit  of  the  people.  And  we  say  that  **  we 
the  people"  are  the  sovereigns  of  the  country,  the  foun- 
tain of  law  and  honor  ;  and  we  appoint  our  rulers  for 
servants,  to  follow  our  instructions,  and  obey  our  will  in 

20  all  things.  And  we  maintain,  (or  many  do)  that  we  the 
people  can  do  no  wrong,  and  that  our  voice  is  the  voice 
of  God.  Here,  you  see,  is  absolute  power,  and  it  is 
the  nature  of  absolute  power,  we  know,  to  corrupt  and 
inflate  its  holders,   and  that   whether  they   be  many  or 

25  few.  And  what  now,  I  ask  you,  is  to  save  us  from 
the  abuse  of  all  this  power  ?  What  is  to  prevent  our 
free  democracy — especially  when  our  country  becomes 
crowded  with  people,  as  it  will  be  by  and  by,  even 
through  our  woods  and  prairies,  and  our  cities  are  chok- 

30  ed  with  men,  almost  stifling  each  other  with  their  hot 
breath — what  is  to  prevent  our  free  democracy  from  fol- 
lowing its  natural  bent,  and  launching  us  all,  or  those 
who  come  after  us,  into  a  wild  and  lawless  anarchy  ?  I 
know,   that  we  plume  ourselves,  and   with  some  rea- 

35  son  too,  upon  that  principle  of  our  government,  almost 
unknown  to  the  ancients,  which  we  are  pleased  to  call 
our  invention,  our  discovery,  though  we  might  more  tru- 
ly and  modestly  term  it  our  felicity,  growing  out  of  our 
situation  and  circumstances,  by  the  good   providence  of 

40  God.  our  elective  franchise  ;  and  this,  we  think,  is  to 
save  us  from  their  fates.  But  what,  I  would  ask  our 
politicians,  is  to  save  our  elective  franchise  itself? 
What  is  to  make  it  worth  having  ?  What  is  to  make  us 
choose  wise  and  honest  men  to  make  our  laws  ?     What 

45  is  to  execute  them  after  they  are  made  ?  What  is  to 
save  us  the  people  from  the  ambition  and  treachery  of 
our  own  elected  servants  ?  What  is  to  keep  our  ser- 
vants from  becoming  our  masters?  And  what  is  to 
save  us  from  ourselves — from  our  own  passions  and  vices, 

50  the  only  formidable  enemies  of  republics  ;  the  only 
ones  at  least  that  we  can  or  ought  to  dread?  Our 
general  intellig^ence  and  virtue — the  general  intelligence 
and  virtue  of  all  classesof  our  people — with  the  blessing 
of  God  Almighty  upon  us — and  nothing  else.     But  this 

55  intelligence  and  virtue  are  to  be  shed  abroad,  in  a  great 
measure,  by  the  Bible,  and  the  Bible  alone.     It  is  quite 


Ex.  101.]  SACRED  ELO(iUENCF..  377 

clear  at  least,  I  think,  that  they  can  never  be  diffused 
to  any  proper  or  sufficient  extent  through  the  mass  of 
the  people,  without  a  free  and   generous  circulation  of 

60  this  book.  And  all  experience,  I  think,  ancient  and 
modern,  confirms  my  sentiment.  You  remember  Ath- 
ens— she  was  the  eye  of  Greece — the  eye  of  all  the  earth 
— and  you  remember  how  she  rose,  and  flourished  in 
arts  and  arms,  and  diffused  herself  abroad,  till  she  be- 

65  came  the  light  and  beauty  of  the  world.  But  now,  alas  ! 
how  changed  ! — she  sits  amojig  her  fallen  columns,  and 
her  broken  shrines — accusing  fate.  And  why  ?  Her 
oracle  is  dumb  ;  but  I  will  answer  for  her — it  is  because 
she  had  no  Bible.     True,  she  was  religious  enough,  and 

70  overmuch,  in  her  own  way  and  style.  For  she  had  al- 
ways, you  know,  a  large  stock  of  gods  and  goddess- 
es, (such  as  they  were)  on  hand,  to  suit  the  taste  of  ev- 
ery body.  And  she  manufactured  them  at*  home,  and 
imported  them  from  abroad.     And  she  commanded  her 

75  philosophers  to  extol  them,  and  condenmed  the  books  of 
her  atheist  scribbler  to  the  flames.  And  she  built  tem- 
ples for  them,  and  raised  statues  to  them,  as  fine,  and 
fair,  and  fashionable,  as  the  genius  of  sculpture  could 
make   them.     And  she  had  an    altar   for   every  one  of 

80  them  that  she  knew  or  had  ever  heard  of,  or  dreamed 
about ;  and  one  more — and  it  was  inscribed  •'  to  the 
UNKNOWN  GOD."  But  there  it  was, — with  all  her  wis- 
dom she  knew  not  God — for  she  had  no  Bible,  bringing 
life  and  immortality  to  light,  to  reveal  him   to   her.     In 

85  vain,  therefore,  did  she  guard  that  statue  of  Minerva  in 
her  temple.  She  had  no  Bible  to  diffuse  the  knowledge 
of  God,  and  intelligence  and  virtue  along  with  it,  among 
her  people — she  had  no  Bible — and  she  fell.  And 
what  now,  I  ask   you,  is  to  save  our   city,  our  repub- 

90  lie,  from  the  same  fate  ?  That  Bible  which  she  want- 
ed ;  but  which,  I  thank  God,  we  have.  Yes,  the  Bible, 
the  Bible  is  our  true  palladium,  sent  down  to  us  froni 
Heaven,  to  preserve  our  freedom  ;  and  we  will  guard  it 
with  holy  care — for  we  know  that  whilst  we  keep  it,  our 

95  city  cannot  be  taken,  our   country  will    be   safe.     Yes, 
and  I  cannot  help  imagining  at  this  moment,  remember- 
32» 


378  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  102. 

ing  whose  words  I  ha?e  been  extending,  with  what 
joy  that  great  and  good  man»  whom  we  fondly  and  tru- 
ly call,  The  Father  of  our  country,  would  have   hailed 

100  the  day  of  this  Society.  O !  if  he  could  have  seen  its 
light  rising  upon  our  land,  with  what  zeai  would  he 
have  come  forward  from  the  shade  of  his  retirement,  to 
enrol  himself  among  its  members  and  friends.  With 
what  patriotic  pride,  with   what  C^hristian  ardor,  he 

105  would  have  embraced  our  cause — and,  like  the  good 
old  prophet  in  the  temple,  when  he  held  up  the  young 
Desire  of  Nations  in  his  arms,  he  would  have  exclaim- 
ed, *'  Lord,  now  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace, 
according  to  thy  word  ;  for  mine  eyes  have  seen  thy 

110  salvation,  which  thou  hast  prepared  before  the  face  of 
all  people,  a  light  to  lighten  the  Gentiles,  and  the  glo- 
ry of  thy  people  Israel !"  Alas  !  he  **  died  without 
the  sight."  But,  from  heaven  where  he  lives,  on  this 
auspicious  anniversary  of  our  society,  with  the  associ- 

115  ated  spirits  of  our  venerable  Boudinot,  and  Clarkson, 
he  looks  down  upon  our  institution  with  a  smile  of 
complacency,  because  he  sees  in  all  our  toils  new 
pledges  for  the  peace,  and  safety,  and  freedom  of  his 
still  beloved  country.  Maxwell 

102.         Isaiah  xiii. 

1  The  sentence  against  Babylon^  which  was  revealed  to 

Isaiah  the  son  of  Amots, 

2  On  the  lofty  mountain,  elevate  the  banner,  I 
Lift  up  the  voice  to  them,*  wave  the  hand, 

That  they  may  enter  into  the  gates  of  the  tyrants. 

3  I  have  given  orders  to  my  consecrated  [warriors] 

I  have  ordered  my  heroes  [to  execute]  my  indignation, 
My  proud  exulters. 

4  [Hark  !]  The  noise  of  a  multitude  upon  the  mountains, 

like  that  of  a  great  nation  ! 
The  tumult  of  kingdoms,  of  assembled  nations! 
Jehovah  God  of  Hosts  mustereth  his  army  for  battle. 

5  They  come  from  a  distant  land, 
From  the  end  of  the  heaven. 

•  The  Medei. 


Ex.  102.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  379 

Jehovah  and  tlie  instruments  of  his  indignation, 
To  lay  waste  the  whole  country. 

6  Howl  ye,  for  the  day  of  Jehovah  is  near, 
Yea,  destruction  from  the  Almighty  is  coming. 

7  Therefore  all  hands  shall  hang  down, 
And  every  heart  of  man  shall  be  melted. 

8  They  shall  be  in  consternation, 

Distress  and  anguish  shall  lay  hold  upon  them, 
As  a  travailing  woman  shall  they  be  distressed, 
One  shall  gaze  upon  another  with  astonishment, 
Their  faces  shall  glow  like  flames. 

9  Behold!     The  day  of  Jehovah  cometh. 
Dreadful  is  his  anger  and  fierce  indignation, 
To  make  the  country  a  waste, 

And  to  destroy  sinners  out  of  it. 

10  For  the  stars  of  heaven  and  the  constellations  thereof, 
Shall  not  give  their  light ; 

The  sun  shall  be  darkened  in  his  march, 
And  the  moon  shall  withhold  her  splendour. 

11  For  I  will  visit  upon  the  land  its  evil, 
And  upon  the  wicked,  their  iniquity, 

I  will  make  the  glorying  of  the  proud  to  cease, 

And  the  haughtiness  of  the  tyrants  will  I  bring  down. 

12  I  will  make  a  man  more  scarce  than  gold, 
Yea  men,  than  the  gold  of  Ophir. 

13  Moreover  I  will  make  the  heavens  to  shake, 
And  the  earth  shall  totter  from  its  place  ; 
Because  of  the  indignation  of  Jehovah  of  hosts, 
In  the  day  of  his  fierce  anger. 

14  And  men  shall  be  like  a  frighted  doe, 

And  like  sheep,  which  no  one  collects  together. 
Each   one  shall  turn  to  his  own  people, 
And  each  fly  to  his  own  country. 

15  Every  one  who  is  overtaken  shall  be  thrust  through, 
And  all  who  are  collected  together  shall  fall  by  the 

sword. 
•  16  Their  children  shall  be  dashed  in  pieces  before  their 
eyes, 


380  IXERCTSES.  [Ex.  102. 

Their  houses  shall  be  rifled,  and  their  women  ravished. 

17  Behold,  I  will  raise  up  against  them  the  Medes, 
Who  make  no  account  of  silver, 

And  as  to  gold,  they  regard  it  not. 

18  Their  bows  shall  strike  down  the  youth, 

On  the  fruit  of  the  womb  they  will  have  no  compassion, 
Their  eye  will  not  pity  the  children. 

19  Sq  shall  Babylon,  the  pride  of  kingdoms, 
The  boast  and  glory  of  the  Chaldeans, 

Be  like  Sodom  and  Gomorrha  which  God  destroyed  ; 

20  It  shall  never  more  be  inhabited, 

Nor  shall  it  be  dwelt  in,  from  generation  to  generation. 

There  the  Arabian  shall  not  pitch  his  tent. 

Nor  the  shepherds  make  their  flocks  to  lie  down  there. 

21  But  there  the  wild  beasts  of  the  desert  shall  lie  down, 
And  howling  monsters  shall  hil  their  houses, 

There  the  ostriches  shall  dwell, 
And  the  satyrs  shall  revel  there. 

22  The  jackals  shall  howl  in  their  palaces. 

And  the  dragons  in  their  magnificent  pleasure-houses ; 

For  her  time  is  near, 

And  her  days  shall  not  be  prolonged. 

Chapter  xiv. 

1  Then  will  Jehovah  have  compassion  upon  Jacob, 
And  set  his  love  again  upon  Israel  ; 

And  he  will  transfer  them  to  their  own  country, 

And  strangers  shall  be  joined  to  them. 

They  shall  be  connected  with  the  house  of  Jacob. 

2  The  nations  shall  take  them  and   bring  them  to  their 

place. 
And  the  house  of  Israel  shall  possess  them  as  servants 

and  handmaids, 
In  the  land  of  Jehovah  ; 
And  their  captors  shall  become  captives, 
And  they  shall  rule  over  their  oppressors. 

3  Then  it  shall  come  to  pass, 

When  Jehovah  shall  give  thee  rest  from  thy  trouble  and 
thine  adversity, 


Ex.    102.]  SACRED   ELOQ^UENCE.  381 

And  from  the  oppressive  service    which  was  laid  upon 
thee, 

4  Thou  shalt  utter  this  song  over  the  king  of  Babylon, 

and  say  ; 
How  has  the  oppressor  come  to  an  end, 
The  exactor  of  golden  tribute  ceased  ! 

5  Jehovah  has  broken  the  staff  of  the  wicked. 
The  rod  of  the  tyrants. 

6  He  smote  the  people  in  anger, 
With  a  stroke  that  was  not  remitted  ; 
He  lorded  it  over  the  nations  in  wrath, 
Wiih  oppression  that  never  ceased. 

7  But  now  the  whole  country  is  quiet, 
They  break  out  into  singing. 

8  The  fir  trees,  also,  exult  over  thee, 
And  the  cedars  of  Lebanon,  [saying], 
"  Since  thou  art  laid  there, 

No  feller  has  come  up  against  us." 

9  Hades  from  beneath  is  in  commotion  on  account  of  thee, 
To  meet  thee  at  thy  coming. 

Because  of  thee  she  rouses  up  her  ghosts, 

All  the  mighty  ones  of  the  earth  she  raises  from  their 

thrones, 
All  the  kings  of  the  nations. 

10  All  of  them  will  accost  thee,  and  say, 
**  Art  thou  become  feeble,  as  we  are? 
Art  thou  become  like  unto  us  ?" 

11  Down  to  Hades  goes  thy  pomp. 
And  the  noise  of  thy  harps  ! 

The  worm  is  thy  couch  under  thee, 
And  the  maggot  is  thy  covering. 

12  Bright  and  morning  star, 

How  art  thou  fallen  from  heaven  ! 
How  art  thou  prostrate  upon  the  earth, 
Who  didst  crush  the  nations  ! 

13  But  thou  didst  say  in  thine  heart ; 
**  I  will  ascend  the  heavens, 

Above  the  stars  of  God  I  will  elevate  my  throne; 
I  will  sit  on  the  mount  of  solemn  assembly, 


382  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  102. 

In  the  recesses  of  the  north  ; 

14  I  will  mount  al)ove  the  height  of  the  clouds, 
I  will  be  like  the  most  high." 

15  But,  to  Hades  hast  thou  come  down, 
To  the  recesses  of  the  pit. 

16  Those  that  see  thee  shall  gaze  upon  thee, 
They  shall  attentively  view  thee,  [and  say,] 

**  Is  this  the  man  who  made  the  earth  to  quake  ? 
Who  made  kincrdoms  to  tremble  ? 

17  Who  made  the  world  a  desert,  j 
And  laid  waste  its  cities  ? 

Who  dismissed  not  his  prisoners  to  their  home  1" 

18  All  the  kinjprs  of  the  nations, 
Yea  all  of  them,  repose  in  glory, 
Each  in  his  own  place. 

19  But  thou  art  cast  out  from  thy  grave, 
Like  a  loathsome   branch  ; 

Thou  art  covered  with  the  slain. 

With  those  who  are  pierced  through  by  the  sword. 

Who  sro  down  into  the  stony  pit ; 

Thy  carcase  is  trodden  under  foot. 

20  Thou  shalt  not  he  joined  with  them  in  burial. 
For  thou  hast  destroyed  thy  country, 

Thou  hast  slain  th^  people  ; 

The  seed  of  evil  doers  shall  never  more  be  named. 

21  Prepare  ye*  slauorhter  for  his  children, 
Because  of  the  iniquity  of  their  fathers  ; 

That  they  may  never  rise  up  and  possess  the  [promised] 

land. 
Nor  fill  the  country  with  enemies. 

22  I  will  rise  up  against  them, 
Saith  Jehovah  of  hosts  ; 

I  will  cut  off  from  Babylon  the  name  and  the  residue, 
Posterity  and  offspring,  saith  Jehovah. 

23  I  will  make  it  a  possession  of  the  porcupine. 
And  [turn  it]  to  pools  of  water  ; 
I  will  sweep  it  with  the  besom  of  destruction, 
Saith  Jehovah  of  hosts.  Stuart^s  Translation. 

•  To  the  Medes.  • 


Ex.    103.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  383 


103.         Eternity  of  God. 

If  all  who  live  and  breathe  around  us  are  the  creatures 
of  yesterday,  and  destined  to  see  destruction  to-morrow  ; 
if  the  same  condition  is  our  own,  an<l  the  same  sentence 
is  written  against  us;  if  the  solid  forms  of  inanimate  na- 
5  ture  and  laborious  art  are  fading  and  falling,  if  we  look 
in  vain  for  durability  to  the  very  toots  of  the  mountains, 
where  shall  we  turn,  and  on  what  can  we  rely  ?  Can 
no  support  be  offered  ;  can  no  source  of  confidence  be 
named?     Oh  yes!  there  is  one  Being  to  whom    we   can 

10  look  with  a  perfect  conviction  of  finding  that  security, 
which  nothing  about  us  can  give,  and  which  nothing 
about  us  can  take  away.  To  this  Being  we  can  lift  up 
our  souls,  and  on  him  we  may  rest  them,  exclaiming  in 
the  lansuao^e  of  the  monarch  of  Israel,   "  Before   the 

15  mountains  were  brought  forth,  or  ever  thou  hadst  form- 
ed the  earth  and  the  world,  even  from  everlasting  to 
everlasting  thou  art  God."  *'  Of  old  hast  thou  laid  the 
foundations  of  the  earth,  and  the  heavens  are  the  work 
of  thy  hands.     They  shall  perish,  but  thou  shalt  endure, 

20  yea,  all  of  them  shall  wax  old  like  a  garment,  as  a  ves- 
ture shalt  thou  change  them,  and  they  shall  be  chang- 
ed but  thou  art  the  same,  and  thy  years  shall  have  no 
end.'' 

The  eternity  of  God  is  a   subject  of  contemplation, 

25  which,  at  the  same  time  that  it  overwhelms  us  with  as- 
tonishment and  awe,  affords  us  an  immoveable  ground 
of  confidence  in  the  midst  of  a  changing  world.  All 
things  which  surround  us,  all  these  dying,  mouldering 
inhabitants  of  time,  must  have  had  a  Creator,  for  the  plain 

30  reason,  that  they  could  not  have  created  themselves. 
And  their  Creator  must  have  existed  from  all  eternity, 
for  the  plain  reason,  that  the  first  cause  must  necessa- 
rily be  uncaused.  As  we  cannot  suppose  a  beginning 
without  a  cause  of  existence,  that  which  is  the  cause  of 

35  all  existence,  must  be  self-existent,  and  could  have  had 
no  beginning.  And,  as  it  had  no  beginning,  so  also,  as 
it  is  beyond  the  reach  of  all  influence  and  control,  as  it 
is  independent  and  almighty,  it  will  have  no  end. 


S04  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  103. 

Here  then  is  a  support,  which  will  never  fail ;  here  is 

40  a  foundation  which  can  never  be  moved — the  everlast- 
ing Creator  of  countless  worlds,  ''  the  high  and  lofty 
One  that  inhabiteth  eternity."  What  a  sublime  con- 
ception !  He  inhabits  eternity,  occupies  this  inconceiva- 
ble duration,  |>ervades  and  fills  throughout  this  boundless 

45  dwellini;.  Ages  on  ages  before  even  the  dust  of  which  we 
are  formed  was  created,  he  had  existed  in  infinite  ma- 
jesty, and  ages  on  ages  will  roll  away  aftfr  we  have  all 
returned  to  the  dust  whence  we  were  taken,  and  still 
he  will  exist  in   infinite  majesty,  living  in   the  eternity 

50  of  his  own  nature,  reigning  in  the  plenitude  of  his  own 
omnipotence,  ibr  ever  sendinir  forth  tiie  word,  which 
forms,  supports,  and  ooverns  all  things,  commanding  new 
created  light  to  shme  on  new  created  worlds,  and  rais- 
ing up  new  created  generations  to  inhabit  them. 

55  The  contemplation  of  this  glorious  attribute  of  God, 
is  fitted  to  excite  in  our  minds  the  most  animating  and 
consoling  reflections.  Standing,  as  we  are,  amid  the 
ruins  of  time,  and  the  wrecks  of  mortality,  where  every 
thing   alx)ut  us  is  created  and   dependent,  proceeding 

60  from  nothing,  and  hastening  to  destruction,  we  rejoice 
that  something  is  presented  to  our  view  which  has  stood 
from  everlasting,  and  will  remain  forever.  When  we 
have  looked  on  the  pleasures  of  life,  and  they  have  van- 
ished away  ;  when  we  have  looked  on  the  works  of  na- 

65  ture,  and  perceived  that  they  were  changing ;  on  the 
monuments  of  art,  and  seen  that  they  would  not  stand  ; 
on  our  friends,  and  they  have  fled  while  we  were  gaz- 
ing ;  on  ourselves,  and  felt  that  we  were  as  fleeting  as 
they;   when  we   have   looked  on  every  object  to  which 

70  we  could  turn  our  anxious  eyes,  and  they  have  all  told 
us  that  they  could  give  us  no  hope  nor  support,  because 
they  were  so  feeble  themselves  ;  we  can  look  to  the 
throne  of  God  :  change  and  decay  have  never  reached 
that;  the  revolution  of  ages  has  never  moved  it ;  the 

75  waves  of  an  eternity  have  been  rushing  past  it,  but  it 
has  remained  unshaken;  the  waves  of  another  eternity 
are  rushing  toward  it,  but  it  is  fixed,  and  can  never  be 
disturbed.  Grcenieood. 


Ex.  104,  105.]     SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  385 

104.         Epitaph  on  Mrs,  Mason, 

Take,  holy  earth  !  all  that  my  soul  holds  dear  ; 

Take  that  best  gift,  which  heav'n  so  lately  gave  ; 
To  Bristol's  fount  I  bore,  with  trembling  care. 

Her  faded  form  ; — She  bow'd  to  taste  the  wave, 
5  And  died.     Does  youth,  does  beauty,  read  the  line  ? 

Does  sympathetic  fear  their  breast  alarm  1 
Speak,  dead  Maria  !  breathe  a  strain  divine  : 

Ev'n  from  the  grave  thou  shalt  have  pow'r  to  charm. 
Bid  them  be  chaste,  be  innocent,  like  thee  ; 
10       Bid  them  in  duty's  sphere,  as  meekly  move  ; 
And,  if  as  fair,  from  vanity  as  free. 

As  firm  in  friendship,  and  as  fond  in  love, 
Tell  them,  though  'tis  an  awful  thing  to  die  ! 

('Twas  even  to  thee)  yet,  the  dread  path  once  trod, 
15  Heaven  lifts  its  everlasting  portals  high. 

And  bids  the  *'  pure  in  heart  behold  their  God." 

105.         Skepticism. 

O !  lives  there  heaven  !  beneath  thy  dread  expanse, 
One   hopeless,  dark  idolator  of  Chance, 
Content  to  feed  with  pleasures  unrefined, 
The  lukewarm  passions  of  a  lowly  mind  ; 
.5  Who,  mouldering  earthward,  'reft  of  every  trust, 
In  joyless  union  wedded  to  the  dust. 
Could  all    his  parting  energy  dismiss. 
And  call  this  barren  world  sufficient  bliss  ? — 
There  live,  alas  !  of  heaven  directed  mien, 

10  Of  cultured  soul,  and  sapient  eye  serene, 
Who  hail  thee,  man  !  the  pilgrim  of  a  day. 
Spouse  of  the  worm,  and  brother  of  the  clay  ! 
Frail  as  the  leaf  in  Autumn's  yellow  bower, 
Dust  in  the  wind,  or  dew  upon  the  flower  ! 

15  A  friendless  slave,  a  child  without  a  sire, 
Whose  mortal  life,  and  momentary  fire, 
Lights  to  the  grave  his  chance-created  form^ 
As  ocean-wrecks  illuminate  the  storm ; 
33 


386  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  105. 

" ' ■ •■ - 

And,  when  the  gun*s  tremendous  flash  is  o^er, 

20  To  night  and  silence  sink  for  evermore ! — 
Are  these  the  pompous  tidings  ye  proclaim, 
Lights  of  the  world,  and  demi-gods  of  fame  \ 
Is  this  your  triumph — this  your  proud  applause, 
Children  of  Truth,  and  champions  of  her  cause  ? 

2o  For  this  hath  Science  searched,  on  weary  wing, 
By  shore  and  sea — each  mute  and  living  thing  ? 
Launched  with  Iberia's  pilot  from  the  steep, 
To  worlds  unknown,  and  isles  beyond  the  deep  ? 
Or  round  the  cope  her  living  chariot  driven, 

30  And  wheeled  in  triumph  through  the  signs  of  heaven  ? 
Oh  !  star-eyed  Science,  hast  thou  wandered  there, 
To  waft  us  home  the  message  of  despair  ? — 
Then  bind  the  palm,  thy  sage's  brow  to  suit, 
Of  blasted  leaf,  and  death-distilling  fruit ! 

40  Ah  me  !  the  laurelled  wreath  that  murder  rears, 
Blood-nursed,  and  watered  by  the  widow's  tears, 
Seems  not  so  foul,  so  tainted,  and  so  dread. 
As  waves  the  night  shade  round  the  skeptic  head. 
What  is  the  bigot's  torch,  the  tyrant's  chain  ? 

45  I  smile  on  death,  if  heaven-ward  hope  remain  ! 
But,  if  the  warring  winds  of  Nature's  strife 
Be  all  the  faithless  charter  of  my  life. 
If  chance  awaked,  inexorable  power! 
This  frail  and  feverish  being  of  an  hour, 

60  Doomed  o'er  the  world's  precarious  scene  to  sweep, 
Swift  as  the  tempest  travels  on  the  deep. 
To  know  Delight  but  by  her  parting  smile, 
And  toil,  and  wish,  and  weep  a  little  while ; 
Then   melt,  ye  elements,  that  formed  in  vain 

65  This  troubled  pulse,  and  visionary  brain  ! 

Fade,  ye  wild  flowers,  memorials  of  my  doom  ! 
And  sink,  ye  stars,  that  light  me  to  the  tomb  ! 
Truth,  ever  lovely  since  the  world  began, 
The  foe  of  tyrants  and  the  friend  of  man, — 

60  How  can  thy  words  from  balmy  slumber  start 
Reposing  Virtue,  pillowed  on  the  heart ! 
Yet,  if  thy  voice  the  note  of  thunder  rolled, 
And  that  were  true  which  Nature  never  told, 
Let  Wisdom  smile  not  on  her  conquered  field ; 


Ex.  106.]  SACRED   ELO^iUENCE.  387 

65  No  rapture  dawns,  no  treasure  is  revealed  ! 
Oh  !   let  her  read,  nor  loudly,  nor  elate, 
The  doom  that  hars  us  tVom  a  better  fate  ; 
But.  sad  as  ansfels  for  the  good  man's  sin, 
Weep  to  record,  and  blush  to  give  it  in  !  CamphelL 

106.  The  Atheist. 

How  wonderful  the  process  by  which  a  man  can 
grow  to  the  immense  intelligence  that  can  know  that 
there  is  no  God.  What  ages  and  what  lights  are  ne- 
cessary for  this  stupendous  attainment !  This  intelli- 
5  gence  involves  the  very  attributes  of  Divinity,  while  a 
God  is  denied.  For  unless  this  man  is  omnipresent, 
unless  he  is  at  this  moment  in  every  place  in  the  uni- 
verse, he  cannot  know  but  there  may  be  in  some  place 
manifestations  of  a  Deity   by  which  even   he    would   be 

10  overpowered.  If  he  does  not  know  absolutely  every 
agent  in  the  universe,  the  one  that  he  does  not  know 
may  be  God.  If  he  is  not  himself  the  chief  agent  in 
the  universe,  and  does  not  know  what  is  so,  that  vvhich 
is  so  may  be  God.     If  he  is   not  in  absolute  possession 

15  of  all  the  propositions  that  constitute  universal  truth, 
the  one  which  he  wants  may  be,  that  there  is  a  God. 
If  he  cannot  with  certainty  assign  the  cause  of  all  that 
he  perceives  to  exist,  that  cause  may  be  a  God.  If  ho 
does  not  know  every  thing  that    has  been  done   in  the 

20  immeasurable  ages  that  are  past,  some  things  may  have 
been  done  by  a  God.  Thus,  unless  he  knows  all  things, 
that  is,  unless  he  precludes  another  Deity  by  being  one 
himself,  he  cannot  know  that  the  Being  whose  existence 
he  rejects,  does  not  exist.     But  he   must  know   that  he 

25  does  not  exist,  else  he  deserves  equal  contempt  and 
compassion  for  the  temerity  with  which  he  firmly  avows 
his  rejection  and  acts  accordingly.  And  yet  a  man  of 
ordinary  age  and  intelligence  may  present  himself  to 
you  with  an  avowal  of  being  thus  distinguished  from 

30  the  crowd  ;  and  if  he  would  describe  the  nmnner  in 
which  he  has  attained  this  eminence,  you  would  feel  a 
melancholy  interest  in  contemplating  that  process  of 
which  the  result  is  so  portentous. 


388  EXERCISES.  [Ex.107. 

Surely  the  creature  that  thus  lifts  his  voice,  and  de- 
35  fies  all  invisible  power  within  the  possibilities  of  infini- 
ty, challenging  whatever  unknown  being  may  hear  him, 
and  who  may,  if  he  will,  appropriate  that  title  of  Almigh- 
ty which  is  pronounced  in  scorn,  to  evince  his  existence, 
by  his  vengeance  ;  surely  this  man  was  not  as  yesterday 
40  a  little  child,  that  would  tremble  and  cry  at  the  approach 
of  a  diminutive  reptile.  Foster. 

107.         Duelling. 

And  now  let  me  ask  you  solemnly ;  will  you  persist 
in  your  attachment  to  these  guilty  men  ?  Will  you  any 
longer,  either  deliberately  or  thoughtlessly,  vote  for 
them  ?  Will  you  renounce  allegiance  to  your  Maker, 
5  and  cast  the  bible  behind  your  back  ?  Will  you  con- 
fide in  men  void  of  the  fear  of  God  and  destitute  of  mor- 
al principle  ?  Will  you  intrust  life  to  murderers — liber- 
ty to  despots  1  Are  you  patriots,  and  will  you  consti- 
tute those  legislators  who  despise  you,  and  despise  equal 

10  laws,  and  wage  war  with  the  eternal  principles  of  jus- 
tice ?  Are  you  christians,  and  by  upholding  duellists 
will  you  deluge  the  land  with  blood,  and  fill  it  with  wMd- 
ows  and  with  orphans  ?  Will  you  aid  in  the  prostration 
of  justice — in  the   escape  of  criminals — in   the  extinc- 

15  tion  of  liberty  ?  Will  you  place  in  the  chair  of  state — 
in  the  senate— on  the  bench  of  justice,  or  in  the  assem- 
bly, men  who,  if  able,  would  murder  you  for  speaking 
truth  ?  Shall  your  elections  turn  on  expert  shooting, 
and  your  deliberative  bodies   become  an   host  of  armed 

20  men  1  Will  you  destroy  public  morality  by  tolerating, 
yea,  rewarding,  the  most  infamous  crimes?  Will  you 
teach  your  children  that  there  is  no  guilt  in  murder  ? 
— Will  you  instruct  them  to  think  lightly  of  duelling, 
and  train  them  up  to  de'stroy  or  be  destroyed  in  tlie 
bloody  field  ?  Will  you  bestow  your  suffrage,  when  you 
know  that  by  withholding  it  you  may  arrest  this  deadly 
evil — when  this  too  is  the  only  way  in  which  it  can  be 
done,  and  when  the  present  is  perhaps  the  only  period 
in  which  resistance  can   avail — when   the  remedy  is  so 

30  easy,  so  entirely  in  your  power ;  and  when  God,  if  you 


Ex.  107.]        SACRED  ELOaUENCK.  389 

do  not  punish   these  guilty   men,  will   most  inevitably 
punish  you  ? 

If  the  widows  and   the  orphans,  which   this  wasting 
evil   has  created    and    is  yearly  multiplying^,  might  all 

35  stand  before  you,  could  you  witness  their  tears  ;  listen 
to  their  details  of  anguish  ?  Should  they  point  to  the 
murderers  of  their  fathers,  their  husbands,  and  their 
children,  and  lift  up  their  voice  and  implore  your  aid  to 
arrest  an  evil  wliich  had   made   them  desolate— could 

40  you  disregard  their  cry  ?  Before  their  eyes  could  you 
approach  the  poll  and  patronize  by  your  vote  the  de- 
stroyers of  their  peace  ?  Had  you  beheld  a  dying  fa- 
ther, conveyed  bleeding  and  agonizing  to  his  distracted 
family  :  had  you  heard  their  piercing  shrieks,  and   wit- 

45  nessed  their  frantic  agony — would  you  reward  the  sav- 
age man  who  had  plunged  them  in  distress  ?  Had  the 
duellist  destroyed  your  neighbour — had  your  own  father 
been  killed  by  the  man  who  solicits  your  suffrage — had 
your  son  been  brought  to  your  door,  pale  in  death,  and 

55  weltering  in  blood,  laid  low  by  his  hand — would  you 
then  think  the  crime  a  small  one  ?  Would  you  honour 
with  your  confidence,  and  elevate  to  power  by  your  vote, 
the  guilty  monster  ?  And  what  would  you  think  of 
your    neighbours,   if,   regardless  of  your    agony,   they 

55  should  reward  him  ?  And  yet,  such  scenes  of  unuttera- 
ble anguish,  are  multiplied  every  year.  Every  year  the 
duellist  is  cutting  down  the  neighbour  of  somebody. 
Every  year,  and  many  times  in  the  year,  a  father  is 
brought  dead  or  dying  to  his  family,  or  a  son  laid  breath- 

60  less  at  the  feet  of  his  parents.  And  every  year  you  are 
patronizing,  by  your  votes,  the  men  who  commit  these 
crimes,  and  looking  with  cold  indifference  upon,  and 
even  mocking  the  sorrows  of  your  neighbour. — Beware 
— I  admonish  you  solemnly  to   beware,  and   especially 

65  such  of  you  as  have  promisintj  sons  preparing  for  active 
life,  lest,  Imving  no  feeling  for  the  sorrows  of  another, 
you  be  called  to  weep  for  your  own  sorrow  ;  lest  your 
sons  fall  by  the  hand  of  the  very  murderer  you  vote  for, 
or  by  the  hand  of  some  one  whom  his  example  has  traia- 

70  ed  to  the  work  of  blood. 

With  such  considerations  before  you,  why,  in  the 
33* 


300  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  108. 

name  of  heaven,  do  you  wish  to  vote  for  such  men  ? 
What  have  they  done  for  you — what  can  they  do,  that 
better  men  cannot  as  happily  accomplish  ?     And  will 

75  you  incur  all  this  ^uilt  and  hazard  all  these  consequen- 
ces for  nothing  ?  Have  you  no  reliorion — no  conscience 
— no  love  to  your  country  ?  No  attachment  to  liberty 
— no  humanity — no  sympathy — no  regard  to  your  own 
welfare  in  this  life;  and  no  fear  of  consequences  in  the 

60  life  to  come  ? 

Oh,  my  countrymen,  awake  I  Awake  to  crimes  which 
are  your  disgrace — to  miseries  which  know  not  a  limit 
— to  judgments  which  will  make  you  desolate. 

JBeccher, 

108.         Character  of  the  Puritans, 

The  Puritans  were  men  whose  minds  had  derived  a 
peculiar  character  from  the  daily  contemplation  of  su- 
perior beinf^s  and  eternal  interests.  Not  content  with 
acknowledging,  in  general  terms,  an  overruling  Prov- 
5  idence,  they  habitually  ascribed  every  event  to  the  will 
of  the  Great  Being,  for  whose  power  nothing  was  too 
vast,  for  whose  inspection  nothing  was  too  minute.  To 
know  him,  to  serve  him,  to  enjoy  him,  was  with  them 
the  great  end  of  existence.     They   rejected  with  con- 

10  tempt  the  ceremonious  homage  which  other  sects  sub- 
stituted for  the  pure  worship  of  the  soul.  Instead  oi" 
catching  occasional  glimpses  of  the  Deity  through  an 
obscuring  veil,  they  aspired  to  gaze  full  on  the  intolera- 
ble brightness,  and  to  commune  with  him  face  to  face. 

15  Hence  originated  their  contempt  for  terrestrial  distinc- 
tions. The  difference  between  the  greatest  and  mean- 
est of  mankin<l  seemed  to  vanish,  when  compared  with 
the  boundless  interval  which  separated  the  whole  race 
from  him  on  whom   their  own  eyes  were  constantly  fix- 

20  ed.  They  recognized  no  title  to  superiority  but  his  fa- 
vour ;  and,  confident  of  that  favour,  they  despised  all 
the  accomplishments  and  all  the  dignities  of  the  world. 
If  they  were  unacquainted  with  the  works  of  philoso- 
phers and  poets,  they  were  deeply  read  in  the  oraclcsol 

25  God.     If  their  names  were  not  found  iu  the  registers  of 


Xv^   OF  TBK     ^ 
Ek.  108.]        SACRED  ELOQUENCE.      '^^^^  T^9Ka'011\^ 


-=*^ 


heralds,  they  felt  assured  that  they  were  recorded  In  th< 
Book  of  Life.  If  their  steps  were  not  accompanied  by 
a  splendid  train  of  menials,  legions  of  ministering  an- 
gels had  charge  over  them.     Their  palaces  were  houses 

30  not  made  with  hands  ;  their  diadems  crowns  of  glory 
wiiich  should  never  fade  away  ! 

On  the  rich  and  the  eloquent,  on  nobles  and  priests, 
they  looked  down  with  contempt :  for  they  esteemed 
themselves  rich  in   a   more  precious   treasure,  and   elo- 

85  quent  in  a  more  sublime  language,  nobles  by  the  right 
of  an  earlier  creation,  and  priests  by  the  imposition  of 
a  mightier  hand.  The  very  meanest  of  them  was  a  be- 
ing to  whose  fate  a  mysterious  and  terrible  importance 
belonged — on  whose  slightest  action  the  spirits  of  light 

40  and  darkness  looked  with  anxious  interest,  who  had 
been  destined,  before  heaven  and  earth  were  created,  to 
enjoy  a  felicity  which  should  continue  when  heaven  and 
earth  should  have  passed  away.  Events  which  short- 
sighted politicians  ascribed  to  earthly  causes,  had   been 

45  ordained  on  his  account.  For  his  sake  empires  had 
risen,  and  flourished,  and  decayed.  For  his  sake  the 
Almighty  had  proclaimed  his  will  by  the  pen  of  the  evan- 
gelist, and  the  harp  of  the  prophet.  He  had  been  res- 
cued by  no  common  deliverer  from  the  grasp  of  no  com- 

50  mon  foe.  He  had  been  ransomed  by  the  sweat  of  no 
vulgar  agony,  by  the  blood  of  no  earthly  sacrifice.  It 
was  for  him  that  the  sun  had  been  darkened,  that  the 
rocks  had  been  rent,  that  the  dead  had  arisen,  that  all 
nature  had  shuddered  at  the  sufferings  of  her  expiring 

55  God  ! 

Thus  the  Puritan  was  made  up  of  two  different  men, 
the  one  all  self-abasement,  penitence,  gratitude,  passion; 
the  other  proud,  calm,  inflexible,  sagacious.  He  pros- 
trated himself  in  the   dust  before  his  Maker  :   but  he  set 

GO  his  foot  on  the  neck  of  the  king.  In  his  devotional  re- 
tirement,  he  prayed  with  convulsions,  and  groans,  and 
tears.  He  was  half  maddened  by  glorious  or  terril>le  il- 
lusions. He  heard  the  lyres  of  angels,  or  the  tempting 
whispers  of  fiends.     He  caught  a  gleam  of  the  beatifick 

65  vision,  or  woke  screaming  from  dreams  of  everlasting 


392  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  108. 

fire.  Like  Vane,  he  thought  himself  intrusted  with  the 
sceptre  of  the  millennial  year.  Like  Fleetwood,  he  cri- 
ed in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul  that  God  had  hid  his  face 
from  him.     But,  when  he  took  his  seat  in  the  council, 

70  or  girt  on  his  sword  for  war,  these  tempestuous  workings 
of  the  soul  had  left  no  perceptible  trace  behind  them. 
People  who  saw  nothing  of  the  godly  but  their  uncouth 
visages,  and  heard  notliing  from  them  but  their  groans 
and  their  hymns,  might  laugh  at  them.     But  those  had 

75  little  reason  to  laugh  who  encountered  them  in  the  hall 
of  debate,  or  in  the  field  of  battle. 

The  Puritans  brought  to  civil  and  military  affairs, 
a  coolness  of  judgment,  and  an  immutability  of  purpose 
which  some  writers  have  thought  inconsistent  with  their 

80  religious  zeal,  but  which  were  in  fact  the  necessary  ef- 
fects of  it.  The  intensity  of  their  feelings  on  one  sub- 
ject made  them  tranquil  on  every  other.  One  overpow- 
ering sentiment  had  subjected  to  itself  pity  and  hatred, 
ambition  and  fear.   Death  had  lost  its  terrors,  and  pleas- 

85  ure  is  charms.  They  had  their  smiles  and  their  tears, 
their  raptures  and  their  sorrows,  but  not  for  the  things 
of  this  world.  Enthusiasm  had  made  them  stoicks,  had 
cleared  their  minds  from  every  vulgar  passion  and 
prejudice,  and  raised  them  above  the  influence  of  dan- 

90  ger  and  of  corruption.  It  sometimes  might  lead  them  to 
pursue  unwise  ends,  but  never  to  choose  unwise  means. 
They  went  through  the  world  like  Sir  Artegales's  iron 
man  Talus  with  his  flail,  crushing  and  trampling  down 
oppressors,  mingling   with    human    beings,  but  having 

95  neither  part  nor  lot  in  human  infirmities  ;  insensible  to 
fatigue,  to  pleasure,  and  to  pain ;  not  to  be  pierced  by 
any  weapon,  not  to  be  withstood  by  any  barrier. 

Such  we  believe  to  have  been  the  character  of  the  Pu- 
ritans.    We  perceive  the   absurdity  of  their  manners. 

100  We  dislike  the  gloom  of  their  domestick  habits.  We 
acknowledge  that  the  tone  of  their  minds  was  often  in- 
jured by  straining  after  things  too  high  for  mortal  r(;ach  : 
And  we  know  that,  in  spite  of  their  hatred  of  popery, 
they  too  often  fell  into  tlie  vices  of  that  bad  system,  in- 

105  tolerance  and  extravagant  austerity.  Yet,  when  all  cir- 
cumstances are  taken  into  consideration,  we  do  not  bes- 


Ex.  109.]         SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  393 

itate  to  pronounce  them  a  brave,  a  wise,  an  honest,  and 
an  useful  body.  Edin.  Review. 

109.         An  enlightened  ministry, 

Christianity  now  needs  dispensers,  who  will  make 
history,  nature,  and  the  improvements  of  society,  tribu- 
tary to  its  elucidation  and  support;  who  will  show  its 
adaptation  to  man  as  an  ever  progressive  being  ;  who 
5  will  be  able  to  meet  the  objections  to  its  truth,  which 
will  naturally  be  started  in  an  active,  stirring,  inquiring 
age  ;  and,  though  last  not  least,  who  will  have  enough 
of  mental  and  moral  courage  to  detect  and  renounce  the 
errors  in  the  Church,  on  which  such  objections  are  gen- 

10  erally  built.  In  such  an  age  a  ministry  is  wanted, 
which  will  furnish  discussions  of  religious  topicks,  not 
inferior  at  least  in  intelligence  to  those,  which  people 
are  accustomed  to  read  and  hear  on  other  subjects. 
Christianity  will  suffer,  if  at  a  time,  when  vigour  and 

15  acuteness  of  thinking  are  carried  into  all  other  depart- 
ments, the  pulpit  should  send  forth  nothing  but  wild  de- 
clamation, positive  assertion,  or  dull  common  places, 
with  which  even  childhood  is  satiated.  Religion  must 
be  seen  to  be  the  friend  and  quickener  of  intellect.     It 

30  must  be  exhibited  with  clearnessof  reasoning  and  varie* 
ty  of  illustration ;  nor  ought  it  to  be  deprived  of  the 
benefits  of  a  pure  and  felicitous  diction,  and  of  rich  and 
glowing  imagery,  where  these  gifts  fall  to  the  lot  of  the 
teacher.     It  is  not  meant  that  every  minister  must   be 

25  a  man  of  genius  ;  for  genius  is  one   of  God's  rarest  in- 
spirations ;  and  of  all  the  beamings  and    breathings  of 
genius,  perhaps  the  rarest  is  eloquence.     I  mean  only 
to  say,  that  the  age  demands  of  those,  who  devote  them- 
selves to  the  administration  of  Christianity,  that  they 

30  should  feel  themselves  called  upon  for  the  highest  culti- 
vation and  fullest  developement  of  the  intellectual  nature. 
Instead  of  thinking,  that  the  ministry  is  a  refuge  for 
dulness,  and  that  whoever  can  escape  from  the  plough 
is  fit  for  God's  spiritual  husbandry,  we  ought  to  feel  that 

35  no  profession  demands  more  enlarged  thinking  and 
more  various  acquisitions  of  truth. 


394  EXERCISES.  [Ex.110. 

In  proportion  as  society  becomes  enlightened,  talent 
acquires  inducuce.  In  rude  a^es  bodily  strength  is  the 
most  honourable  distinction,  and   in  subsequent  times 

40  military  prowess  and  skill  confer  mastery  and  eminence. 
But  as  society  advances,  mind,  th»>u;iht,  l>ccomes  the 
soverei<;n  of  the  world;  and  accordingly,  at  the  present 
moment,  profound  and  glowins;  thought,  though  breath- 
ing only  from  the  silent  page,  exerts  a  kind  of  omnipo- 

45  tent  and  omnipresent  energy.  It  crosses  oceans  and 
spreads  through  nations ;  and  at  one  and  the  same  mo- 
ment, the  conceptions  of  a  sinsfle  mind  are  electrifying 
and  kindling  multitudes,  through  wider  regions  than 
the  Roman  Eagle  overshadowed.    This  agency  of  mind 

50  on  mind,  I  repeat  it,  is  the  true  sovereignty  of  the  world, 
and  kings  and  heroes  are  becoming  impotent  by  the 
side  of  men  of  deep  and  fervent  thought.  In  such  a 
state  of  things,  Religion  would  wage  a  very  unequal 
war,  if  divorced  from   talent  and  cultivated  intellect,  if 

55  committed  to  weak  and  untaught  minds.  God  plainly 
intends,  that  it  should  be  advanced  by  human  agency  ; 
and  does  he  not  then  intend,  to  summon  to  its  aid  tlie 
mightiest  and  noblest  power  with  which  man  is  gifted  ? 

Chantiing, 

110.         Prayer, 

Prayer  is  an  action  of  likeness  to  the  Holy  Ghost, 
the  spirit  of  gentleness  and  dove-like  simplicity ;  an 
imitation  of  the  holy  Jesus,  whose  spirit  is  meek  up 
to  the  greatness  of  the  biggest  example,  and  a  con- 
5  formity  to  God,  whose  anger  is  always  just,  and  march- 
es slowly,  and  is  without  Iransjwrtation,  and  often  hin- 
dered, and  never  hasty,  and  is  full  of  mercy  :  prayer  is 
the  peace  of  our  spirit,  the  stillness  of  our  thoughts,  the 
evenness  of  recollection,  the  seat  of  meditation,  the  rest 

15  of  our  cares,  and  the  calm  of  our  tempest ;  prayer  is 
the  issue  of  a  quiet  mind,  of  untroubled  thoughts,  it  is 
the  daughter  of  charity,  and  the  sister  of  meekness ;  and 
he  that  prays  to  God  with  an  angry,  that  is  with  a  trou- 
bled and  discomposed  spirit,  is  like  him  that  retires  into 

15  a  battle  to  meditate,  and  sets  up  his  closet  in  the  out 
quarters  of  an  army,  and  chooses  a  frontier  garrison  to  be 


111.] 


SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  395 


wise  in.  Anger  is  a  perfect  alienation  of  the  mind 
from  prayer,  and  therefore  is  contrary  to  that  attention, 
which  presents  our  praye  rs  in  a  right  line  to  God.     For 

20  so  have  I  seen  a  lark  rising  from  his  bed  of  grass,  and 
soaring  upwards,  singing  as  he  rises,  and  hopes  to  get 
to  heaven,  and  climb  above  the  clouds  ;  but  the  poor 
bird  was  beaten  back  with  the  loud  sighings  of  an 
eastern  wind,  and  his  motion  made  irregular  and  incon- 

25  stant,  descending  more  at  every  breath  of  the  tempest, 
than  it  could  recover  by  the  libration  and  frequent 
weighing  of  his  wings ;  till  the  little  creature  was 
forced  to  sit  down  and  pant,  and  stay  till  the  storm  was 
over,  and  then  it  made  a  prosperous  flight,  and  did  rise 

30  and  sing  as  if  it  had  learned  music  and  motion  from  an 
angel,  as  he  passed  sometimes  through  the  air  about 
his  ministeries  here  below  :  so  is  the  prayer  of  a  good 
man;  when  his  affairs  have  required  business,  and  his 
business  was  matter  of  discipline,  and  his  discipline  was 

35  to  pass  upon  a  sinning  person,  or  had  a  design  of  chari- 
ty, his  duty  met  with  the  infirmities  of  a  man,  and  an- 
ger was  its  instrument,  and  the  instrument  became 
stronger  than  the  prime  agent,  and  raised  a  tempest  and 
overruled  the  man  ;  and    then  his   prayer  was   broken, 

40  and  his  thoughts  were  troubled,  and  his  words  went  up 
towards  a  cloud,  and  his  thoughts  pulled  them  back 
again,  and  made  them  without  intention  ;  and  the  good 
man  sighs  for  his  infirmity,  but  must  be  content  to  lose 
the  prayer,  and  he  must  recover   it,  when   his   anger 

45  is  removed,  and  his  spirit  is  becalmed,  made  even  as 
the  brow  of  Jesus,  and  smooth  like  the  heart  of  God  ; 
and  then  it  ascends  to  heaven  upon  the  wings  of  the 
holy  dove,  and  dwells  with  God,  till  it  returns  like 
the  useful  bee,  loaden  with  a  blessing   and  the   dew  of 

50  heaven.  Jer,  Taylor. 

111.  Gray's  Elegy, 

1  The  curfew  tolls  the  knell  of  parting  day, 
The  lowing  herd  winds  slowly  o'er  the  lea, 
The  ploughman  homeward  plods  his  weary  way. 
And  leaves  the  world  to  darkness — and  to  me'. 


396  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  111. 

2  Now  fades  the  glimm'riDg  landscape  on  the  sight, 

And  all  the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds, 
Save  where  the  beetle  wheels   his  drony  flight, 
And  drowsy  tinklings  lull  the  distant  folds  ; 

3  Save  that,  from  yonder  ivy-mantled  tow'r, 

The  moping  owl  does  to  the  Moon  complain 
Of  such,  as,  wand'ring  near  her  secret  bow'r^ 
Molest  her  ancient  solitary  reign. 

4  Beneath  those  rugged  elms,  that  yew-tree's  shade. 

Where  heaves  the  turf  in  many  a  mouldering  heap, 
Each  in  his  narrow  cell  forever  laid, 

The  rude  forefathers  of  the  hamlet  sleep. 

5  Their  name,  their  years,  spelt  by  th'  unlettered  muse, 

The  place  of  fame  and  elegy  supply  : 

And  many  a  holy  text  around  she  strews, 

That  teach  the  rustic  moralist  to  die. 

6  For  who,  to  dumb  forgetful ness  a  prey. 

This  pleasing  anxious  being  e'er  resigned, 
Left  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day, 
Nor  cast  one  longing,  lingering  look  behind  ? 

7  On  some  fond  breast  the  parting  soul  relies, 

Some  pious  drops  the  closing  eye  requires  ; 
Ev'n  from  the  tomb,  the  voice  of  nature  cries, 
Ev'n  in  our  ashes  live  their  wonted  fires. 

8  For  thee,  who,  mindful  of  th'  unhonour'd  dead, 

Dost  in  these  lines  their  artless  tale  relate ; 
If  chance,  by  lonely  Contemplation  led. 
Some  kindred  spirit  shall  inquire  thy  fate, 

9  Haply  some  hoary-headed  swain  may  say, 

*'  Oft  have  we  seen  him  at  the  peep  of  dawn, 
Brushing,  with  hasty  steps,  the  dews  away, 
To  meet  the  sun  upon  the  upland  lawn : 

10  There,  at  the  foot  of  yonder  nodding  beech. 
That  wreaths  its  old  fantastic  roots  so  high, 
His  listless  length  at  noon-tide  would  he  stretch, 
And  pore  upon  the  brook  that  babbles  by. 


Ex.  112.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  397 

11  Hard  by  yon  wood,  now  smiling,  as  in  scorn, 

Mutt'ring  his  wayward  fancies,  he  would  rove  ; 
Now  drooping,  woeful  wan,  like  one  forlorn, 
Or  craz'd  with  care,  or  cross'd  in  hopeless  love. 

12  One  morn  I  miss'd  him  on  the  custom'd  hill. 

Along  the  heath,  and  near  his  fav'rite  tree  : 
Another  came  ;  nor  yet  beside  the  rill, 
Nor  up  the  lawn,  nor  at  the  wood  was  he ; 

13  The  next,  with  dirges  due,  in  sad  array, 

Slow  thro'  the  church-yard  path  we  saw  him  borne  ; 
Approach  and  read  (for  thou  canst  read)  the  lay, 
Graved  on  the  stone  beneath  yon  aged  thorn." 

THE    EPITAPH. 

14  Here  rests  his  head  upon  the  lap  of  earth, 

A  ^  outh  to  Fortune  and  to  Fame  unknown; 
Fair  Science  frowned  not  on  his  humble  birth, 
And  Melancholy  mark'd  him  for  her  own. 

15  Large  was  his  bounty,  and  his  soul  sincere, 

Ileav'n  did  a  recompense  as  largely  send  ; 
He  gave  to  Mis'ry  all  he  had,  a  tear  ; 

He  gain'd  from  heav'n  ('twas  all  he  wish'd)  a  friend. 

16  No  farther  seek  his  merits  to  disclose. 

Or  draw  his  frailties  from  their  dread  abode, 
(There  they  alike  in  trembling  hope  repose) 

The  bosom  of  his  father  and  his  God.  Gray, 

1 12.  Obligation  to  the  Heathen, 

Let  me  never  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  man,  who, 
while  he  refuses  to  aid  the  missionary  efforts  of  his 
brethren,  coolly  says  that  he  submits  the  fate  of  the 
heathen  to  God.     Do  you   call  this   submission  ?     Put 

5  it  to  the  test ; — does  it  preserve  you  equally  composed 
by  the  bed  of  your  dying  child  ?  While  the  pressure  of 
private  afflictions  can  torture  your  soul,  call  not  the  ap- 
athy with  which  you  view  nations  sinking  into  hopeless 
ruin, — call  it  not  submission,  nor  bring  the  government 

10  of  God  to  sanction  a  temper  as  cruel  as  it  is  common. 
34 


3^8  SXERCISES.  [Ex.112. 

Will  the  government  of  God  convert  the  heathen  with- 
out the  means  of  grace  ?  What  nation  was  ever  so  con- 
verted ?  It  is  contrary  to  the  established  method  of  di- 
vine grace.     "How  shall  they  believe  in  him  of  whom 

15  they  have  not  heard  ?  And  how  shall  they  hear  with- 
out a  preacher  ?"  No,  my  brethren,  missionaries  must 
go  among  them  ;  and  they  must  be  supported.  They 
cannot  support  themselves  ;  they  cannot  derive  support 
from  the   heathen  ;  nor  can  they  expect  to   be  fed   by 

20  ravens.  Who  then  shall  sustain  the  expense  if  not  the 
christian  world  ?  and  what  portion  of  the  christian 
world  rather  than  the  American  churches  ?  and  what 
district  of  these  churches  rather  than  that  in  which  we 
are  assembled  ?  and  what  individuals   rather  than  our- 

25  selves  ?  Heaven  has  given  us  the  means  ;  we  are  living 
in  prosperity  on  the  very  lands  from  which  the  wretched 
pagans  have  been  ejected  ;  from  the  recesses  of  whose 
wilderness  a  moving  cry  is  heard,  When  it  is  well  with 
you,  think  of  poor  Indians.     This  is  not  ideal ;  we  have 

30  received  such  messages  written  with  their  tears. 

I  have  nothing  to  spare,  is  the  plea  of  sordid  reluc- 
tance. But  a  far  different  sentiment  will  be  formed 
amidst  the  scenes  of  the  last  day.  Men  now  persuade 
themselves  that  they  have  nothing  to  spare  till  they  can 

35  support  a  certain  style  of  luxury,  and  have  provided  for 
the  establishment  of  children.  But  in  the  awful  hour 
when  you,  and  I,  and  all  the  pagan  nations,  shall  be 
called  from  our  graves  to  stand  before  the  bar  of  Christ, 
what  comparison  will  these  objects  bear  to  the  salvation 

40  of  a  single  soul  ?  Eternal  mercy  !  let  not  the  blood 
of  heathen  millions,  in  that  hour,  be  found  in  our  skirts  I 
— Standing,  as  I  now  do,  in  sight  of  a  dissolving  uni- 
verse, beholding  the  dead  arise,  the  world  in  flames, 
the   heavens   fleeing  away,  all   nations  convulsed   with 

45  terror,  or  rapt  in  the  vision  of  the  lamb, — I  pronounce 
the  conversion  of  a  single  pagan  of  more  value  than  all 
the  wealth  that  ever  omnipotence  produced.  On  such 
an  awful  subject  it  becomes  me  to  speak  with  caution  ; 
But  I  solemnly  aver,  that  were  there   but  one   heathen 

50  in  the  world,  and  be  in  the  remotest  corner  of  Asia,  ii 


Ex.113.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  399 

no  greater  duty  confined  us  at  home,  it  would  be  worth 
the  pains  for  all  the  people  in  America  to  embark  to- 
gether to  carry  the  gospel  to  him.  Place  your  soul  in 
his  soul's  stead.     Or   rather  consent  for   a   moment  to 

55  change  condition  with  the  savages  on  our  borders. 
Were  you  posting  on  to  the  judgment  of  the  great  day, 
in  the  darkness  and  pollution  of  pagan  idolatry,  and 
were  they  living  in  wealth  in  this  very  district  of  the 
church,  how  hard  would  it  seem  for  your  neighbours  to 

60  neglect  your  misery  !  When  you  should  open  your 
eyes  in  the  eternal  world,  and  discover  the  ruin  in  which 
they  had  suffered  you  to  remain,  how  would  you  re- 
proach them  that  they  did  not  even  sell  their  posses- 
sions, if  no  other  means  were  sufficient,  to  send  thegos- 

65  pel  to  you.  My  flesh  trembles  at  the  prospect  ! — But 
they  shall  not  reproach  us.  It  shall  be  known  in  heav- 
en that  we  could  pity  our  brethren.  We  will  send 
them  all  the  relief  in  our  power,  and  will  enjoy  the 
luxury  of  reflecting  what  happiness  we   may  entail  on 

70  generations  yet  unborn,  if  we  can  only  effect  the  con- 
version of  a  single  tribe.  Griffin. 

113.  Infatuation  of  men  with  regard  to  the  things  of  time. 

But  if  no  danger  is  to  be  apprehended  while  the  thun- 
der of  heaven  rolls  at  a  distance,  believe  me,  when  it 
collects  over  our  heads,  we  may  be  fatally  convinced, 
that  a  well-spent  life  is  the  only  conductor  that  can  a- 
5  vert  the  bolt.  Let  us  reflect,  that  time  waits  for  no  man. 
Sleeping  or  waking,  our  days  are  on  the  wing.  If  we  look 
to  those  that  are  past,  they  are  but  as  a  point.  When 
I  compare  the  present  aspect  of  this  city,  with  that 
which   it  exhibited  within  the  short   space  of  my  own 

10  residence,  what  does  the  result  present,  but  the  most 
melancholy  proof  of  human  instability  ?  New  charac- 
ters in  every  scene,  new  events,  new  principles,  new 
passions,  a  new  creation  insensibly  arisen  from  the  ash- 
es of  the  old  ;  which  side   soever   I  look,  the  ravage  of 

15  death  has  nearly  renovated  all.  Scarcely  do  we  look 
around  us  in  life,  when  our  children  are  matured,  and 
remind  us  of  the  grave  ;  the  great  feature  of  all  nature, 


400  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  11 


o 


is  rapidity  of  growth  and  declension.  Ages  are  renew- 
ed, but  the  figure  of  the  world  passeth  away.     God  on- 

20  \y  remains  the  same.  The  torrent  that  sweeps  by,  runs 
at  the  base  of  his  immutability  ;  and  he  sees,  with  in- 
dignation, wretched  mortals,  as  they  pass  along,  insult- 
ing him  by  the  visionary  ho{)e  of  sharing  that  attribute, 
which  belongs  to  Him  alone. 

25  It  is  to  the  incomprehensible  oblivion  of  otir  mortali- 
ty, that  the  world  owes  all  its  fascination.  Observe  for 
what  man  toils.  Observe  what  it  often  costs  him  to  be- 
come rich  and  great — dismal  vicissitudes  of  hope  and 
disappointment— often  all  that  can  degrade  the  dignity 

30  of  his  nature,  and  offend  his  God  !  Study  the  matter  of 
the  pedestal,  and  the  instability  of  the  statue. — Scarce 
is  it  erected — scarce  presented  to  the  stare  of  the  multi- 
tude— when  death,  starting  like  a  massy  fragment  from 
the  summit  of  a  mountain,  dashes  the  proud  colossus 

35  into  dust !  Where,  then,  is  the  promised  fruit  of  all 
his  toil  ?  Where  the  wretched  and  deluded  being,  who 
fondly  promised  himself  that  he  had  laid  up  much  goods 
for  many  years  ? — Gone,  my  brethren,  to  his  account,  a 
naked  victim,  trembling  in  the  hands  of  the  living  God  ! 

40  Yes,  my  brethren,  the  final  catastrophe  of  all  human  pas- 
sions, is  rapid  as  it  is  awful.  Fancy  yourselves  on  that 
bed  from  which  you  never  shall  arise,  and  the  reflection 
will  exhibit  like  a  true  and  faithful  mirror,  what  shadows 
we   are,  and   what  shadows  we   pursue.     Happy  they 

45  who  meet  that  great,  inevitable  transition,  full  of  days  ! 
Unhappy  they  who  meet  it  but  to  tremble  and  despair  ! 
Then  it  is  that  man  learns  wisdom,  when  too  late ; 
then  it  is  that  every  thing  will  forsake  him,  but  his  vir- 
tues or  his  crimes.     To  him  the  world   is  past ;  digni- 

50  ties,  honours,  pleasure,  glory  ;  past  like  the  cloud  of  the 
morning  !  nor  could  all  that  the  great  globe  inherits,  af- 
ford him  at  the  tremendous  hour,  as  much  consolation, 
as  the  recollection  of  having  given  but  one  cup  of  cold 
water  to  a  child  of  wretchedness,  in  the  name  of  Christ 

55  Jesus  !  Kirtean. 


Ex.  114.]  SACRED  ELOQUENCE.  401 

114.  Death  of  IlarniUon, 

A  short  time  since,  and  he  who  is  the  occasion  of  our 
sorrows,  was  the  ornament  of  his  country.  He  sUyod  on 
an  eminence  ;  and  glory  covered  him.  From  that  em- 
inence he  has  fallen — suddenly,  for  ever,  fallen.  His 
5  intercourse  with  the  living  world  is  now  ended  ;  and 
those  who  would  hereafter  find  him  must  seek  him  in 
the  grave.  There,  cold  and  lifeless,  is  the  heart  which 
just  now  was  the  seat  of  friendship.  There,  dim  and 
sightless  is  the  eye,  whose  radient   and   enlivening  orb 

10  beamed  with  intelligence ;  and  there,  closed  for  ever 
are  those  lips,  on  whose  persuasive  accents  we  have  so 
often  and  so  lately  hung  with  transport. 

From  the  darkness  which  rests  upon  his  tomb  there 
proceeds,  methinks,  a  light  in   which  it  is  clearly  seen 

15  that  those  gaudy  objects  which  men  pursue  are  only 
phantoms.  In  this  light  how  dimly  shines  the  splendor 
of  victory — how  humble  appears  the  majesty  of  gran- 
deur. The  bubble  which  seemed  to  have  so  much  so- 
lidity has  burst :  and  we  again  see  that  all  below  the  sun 

20  is  vanity. 

True,  the  funeral  eulogy  has  been  pronounced.  The 
sad  and  solemn  procession  has  moved.  The  badge  of 
mourning  has  already  been  decreed,  and  presently  the 
sculptured  marble  will  lift  up  its  front,  proud  to  perpet- 

25  uate  the  name  of  Hamilton,  and  rehearse  to  the  passing 
traveller  his  virtues. 

Just  tributes  of  respect !  And  to  the  living  useful. 
But  to  liim,  mouldering  in  his  narrow  and  humble  hab- 
itation, what  are  they  ? — How  vain  ?  how    unavailing  ? 

30  Approach,  and  behold — while  I  lift  from  his  sepul- 
chre its  covering.  Ye  admirers  of  his  greatness,  ye  em- 
ulous of  his  talents  and  his  fame,  approach,  and  behold 
him  now.  How  pale  !  how  silent  !  No  martial  bands 
admire  the  adroitness  of  his  movements.     No   fascinat- 

35  ed  throng  weep — and  melt — and  tremble  at  his  elo- 
quence ! — Amazing  change.  A  shrowd  !  a  coffin  I  a 
narrow  subterraneous  cabin  !  This  is  all  that  now  re- 
mains of  Hamilton  !  And  is  this  all  that  remains  of 


402  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  115. 

him  ? — During  a  life  so  transitory,  what   lasting  monu- 

40  ment  then  can  our  fondest  hopes  erect  ? 

My  brethren  !  we  stand  on  the  borders  of  an  awful 
gulf,  which  is  swallowing  up  all  things  human.  And  is 
there,  amidst  this  universal  wreck,  nothing  stable,  noth- 
ing abiding,  nothing  immortal  on  which  poor,  frail,  dy- 

45  ing  man  can  fasten  ? 

Ask  the  hero,  ask  the  statesman,  whose  wisdom  you 
have  been  accustomed  to  revere,  and  he  will  tell  you. 
He  will  tell  you,  did  I  say  ?  He  has  already  told  you, 
from  his  death  bed,  and   his   illumined  spirit  still  whis- 

50  pers  from  the  heavens,  with  well  known  eloquence,  the 
solemn  admonition. 

"  Mortals  !  hastening  to  the  tomb,  and  once  the  com- 
panions of  my  pilgrimage,  take  warning  and  avoid  my 
errors — Cultivate  the   virtues   I   have   recommended — 

55  Choose  the  Saviour  I  have  chosen — Live  disinterestedly 
- — Live  for  immortality  ;  and  would  you  rescue  any 
thing  from  final  dissolution,  lay  it  up  in  God.'*     Nott, 


115.  The  Crucifixion. 

When  our  Redeemer  expired  on  the  cross,  sympa- 
thizing nature  was  convulsed  !  The  sun  was  suddenly 
enveloped  in  midnight  darkness,  and  confusion  reigned  ! 
but  I  shall  pass  by  these  terrific  events,  in  order  to  lead 

5  your  attention  to  more  important  objects.  The  cross 
erected  on  Mount  Calvary  was  the  standard  of  victory, 
to  which  even  thought  was  to  be  led  captive,  and  before 
which  imaginations  were  to  be  cast  down  ;  that  is  to 
say,  human  wisdom   and  skeptic  reluctance.     No  voice 

10  sublime  was  heard  sounding  from  a  thunder-bearing 
cloud,  as  of  old  from  the  heights  of  Sinai !  No  approach 
was  observed  of  that  formidable  Majesty,  before  whom 
the  mountains  melt  as  wax  !  Where,  where  was  the 
warlike  preparation  of  that  power  which  was  to  subdue 

15  the  world  ?  See  the  whole  artillery  collected  on  Mount 
Calvary,  in  the  exhibition  of  a  cross,  of  an  agonizing 
Sufferer,  and  a  crown  of  thorns  ! 

Religious  truth  was  exiled  from  the  earth,  and  idola- 


Ex.115.]  SACRED  ELOQDENCE.  403 

try  sat  brooding  over  the  moral  world.     The  Egyptians, 

20  the  fathers  of  philosophy,  the  Grecians,  the  inventors  of 
the  fine  arts,  the  Romans,  the  conquerors  of  the  uni- 
verse, were  all  unfortunately  celebrated  for  the  perver- 
sion of  religious  worship,  for  the  gross  errors  they  ad- 
mitted into  their  belief,  and  the  indignities  they  offered 

25  to  the  true  religion.  Minerals,  vegetables,  animals, 
the  elements,  became  objects  of  adoration  ;  even  abstract 
visionary  forms,  such  as  fevers  and  distempers,  received 
the  lionours  of  deification ;  and  to  the  most  infamous 
vices,  and  dissolute  passions,  altars  were  erected.     The 

30  world;  which  God  had  made  to  manifest  his  power 
seemed  to  have  become  a  temple  of  idols,  where  every 
thing  was  god  but  God  himself! 

The   mystery  of  the  crucifixion   was  the  remedy  the 

35  Almighty  ordained  for  this  universal  idolatry.  He  knew 
the  mind  of  man,  and  knew  that  it  was  not  by  reason- 
ing an  error  must  be  destroyed,  which  reasoning  had 
not  established.  Idolatry  prevailed  by  the  suppres- 
sion of  reason,  by  suffering  the  senses  to  predominate, 
which  are  apt  to  clothe  every  thing  with  the    qualities 

40  with  which  they  are  affected.  Men  gave  the  Divinity 
their  own  figure,  and  attributed  to  him  their  vices  and 
passions.  Reasoning  had  no  share  in  so  brutal  an  er- 
ror. It  was  a  subversion  of  reason,  a  derilium,  a  phren- 
sy.     Argue   with  a  phrenetic   person,   you   do  but  the 

45  more  provoke  him,  and  render  the  distemper  incurable. 
Neither  will  reasoning  cure  the  delirium  of  idolatry. 
What  has  learned  antiquity  gained  by  her  elaborate  dis- 
courses ?  her  reasonings  so  artfully  framed  ?  Did  Pla- 
to, with  that  eloquence  which  was   styled   divine,  over- 

50  throw  one  single  altar  where  monstrous  divinities  were 
worshipped  ?  Experience  hath  shown  that  the  overthrow 
of  idolatry  could  not  be  the  work  of  reason  alone.  Far 
from  committing  to  human  wisdom  the  cure  of  such  a 
malady,  God  completed  its  confusion  by  the   mystery  of 

55  the  cross.  Idolatry  (if  rightly  understood)  took  its  rise 
from  that  profound  self-attachment  inherent  in  our  na- 
ture. Thus  it  was  that  the  Pagan  mythology  teemed 
with  deities  who  were  subject  to  human  pensions,  weak- 


404  EXERCISES.  [Ex.  115. 

nesses,  and  vices.  When  the  mysterious  cross  display- 
60  ed  to  the  world  an  agonizing  Redeemer,  incredulity  ex- 
claimed it  was  foolishness  !  But  the  darkning  sun,  na- 
ture convulsed,  the  dead  arising  from  their  graves,  said 
it  was  wisdom  !  Bossuet. 


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